uise  Burnham 


THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 
OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 


GIFT  OF 

Crand«U 


THE  KEY  NOTE 


THE  KEY  NOTE 

A  Novel 


BY 
CLARA  LOUISE  BURNHAM 


BOSTON  AND  NEW  YORK 

HOUGHTON  MIFFLIN  COMPANY 


1921 


COPYRIGHT,  1921,  BY  CLARA  LOUISE  BURNHAM 
ALL  RIGHTS  RESERVED 


TO 

JOSEPHINE 


2226081 


CONTENTS 

I.  THE  RAPSCALLION  i 

II.  VERONICA  19 

III.  A  FRIENDLY  PACT  45 

IV.  BIOGRAPHY  70 
V.  A  FIRELIGHT  INTERVIEW  90 

VI.  THE  HAUNTED  FARM  ^Iio 

VII.  ANOTHER  WOUND  125 

VIII.  SKETCHES  137 

IX.  A  WORKING  PLAN  151 

X.  NICHOLAS  GAYNE  CONFIDES  164 

XI.  THE  NEWPORT  LETTER  181 

XII.  COUSIN  HERBERT  194 

XIII.  THE  LAW  208 

XIV.  THE  WILL  222 
XV.  A  SUDDEN  JOURNEY  234 

XVI.  THE  NEW  CLIENT  246 

XVII.  THE  HEIR  262 

XVIII.  DIANA'S  IDEAL  276 

XIX.  MOONLIGHT  293 

XX.  REUNION  303 

XXI.  GOOD-BYES  317 

XXII.  THE  DINNER  PARTY  329 

XXIII.  THE  MOON-GODDESS  345 


THE  KEY  NOTE 

*        • 

• 

CHAPTER  I 

THE  RAPSCALLION 

THE  sea  glittered  in  all  directions.  The  grassy 
field,  humpy  with  knolls  and  lumpy  with  gray 
rock,  sloped  down  toward  the  near-by  water. 
Bunches  of  savin  and  bay  and  groups  of 
Christmas  trees  flourished  in  the  fresh  June 
air,  and  exhilarating  balsamic  odors  assailed 
Miss  Burridge's  nostrils  as  she  stood  in  the 
doorway  viewing  the  landscape  o'er  and  re- 
flectively picking  her  teeth  with  a  pin. 

"It's  an  awful  sightly  place  to  fail  in,  any- 
way," she  thought. 

Her  one  boarder  came  and  stood  beside  her. 
She  was  a  young  woman  with  a  creamy  skin, 
regular  features,  dark,  dreaming  eyes,  and  a 
pleasant,  slow  smile. 

"Are  you  gathering  inspiration,  Miss  Bur- 
ridge?"  she  asked,  settling  a  white  tam-o'- 
shanter  on  her  smooth  brown  locks. 

"I  hope  so,  Miss  Wilbur.  I  need  it." 

"How  could  any  one  help  it!"  was  Diana 
Wilbur's  soft  exclamation,  as  she  took  a 


THE  KEY  NOTE 


deep  breath  and  gazed  at  the  illimitable  be- 
diamonded  blue. 

Priscilla  Burridge  turned  her  middle-aged 
gaze  upon  the  enthusiasm  of  the  twentieth 
year  beside  her. 

"Do  you  know  of  any  inspiration  that 
would  make  me  able  to  get  the  carpenter  to 
come  and  jack  up  the  saggin'  corner  of  that 
piazza?"  she  asked.  "Or  get  the  plumber 
to  mend  the  broken  pipe  in  the  kitchen?" 

Miss  Wilbur's  dreaming  gaze  came  back  to 
the  bony  figure  in  brown  calico. 

"It  seems  almost  sacrilege,  does  n't  it," 
she  said  in  a  voice  of  awe,  "to  speak  of  car- 
penters and  plumbers  in  a  place  like  this? 
Such  odors,  such  crystal  beauty  untouched  by 
the  desecrating  hand  of  man." 

Miss  Priscilla  snorted.  "If  I  don't  get 
hold  of  the  desecrating  hand  of  man  pretty 
soon,  you  '11  be  havin'  a  stream  o'  water  come 
down  on  your  bed,  the  first  rain." 

The  girl's  attitude  of  adoration  remained 
unchanged. 

"  I  noticed  that  little  rift,"  she  said  slowly. 
"As  I  lay  in  bed  this  morning,  I  looked  up  at 
a  spot  of  sapphire  that  seemed  like  a  day-star 
full  of  promise  of  this  transcendent  beauty." 

Miss  Wilbur's  pretty  lips  moved  but  little 


THE  RAPSCALLION 


when  she  spoke  and  her  slow  utterance  gave 
the  effect  of  a  recitation. 

Miss  Priscilla,  for  all  her  harassment,  could 
not  forbear  a  smile. 

"I  'm  certainly  glad  you  're  so  easily 
pleased,  but  you  don't  know  Casco  Bay  as 
well  as  I  do,  or  that  day-star  would  look 
powerful  stormy  to  you.  When  it  rains  here, 
all  other  rains  are  mere  imitations.  It  comes 
down  from  the  sky  and  up  from  the  ground, 
and  the  wind  blows  it  east  and  west,  and  the 
porch  furniture  turns  somersets  out  into  the 
field,  and  windows  and  doors  go  back  on  you 
and  give  up  the  fight  and  let  the  water  in 
everywhere,  while  the  thunder  rolls  like  the 
day  o'  judgment." 

The  ardent  light  in  the  depths  of  the  young 
girl's  eyes  glowed  deeper. 

"  I  should  expect  a  storm  here  to  be  inex- 
orably superb!"  she  declared. 

Miss  Priscilla  heaved  a  sigh,  half  dejection, 
half  exasperation,  and  turned  into  the  house. 

"Drat  that  plumber!"  she  said.  "I've 
only  had  a  few  days  of  it,  but  I  'm  sick  of  lug- 
gin'  water  in  from  that  well." 

"Why,  Miss  Burridge,"  said  her  boarder 
solicitously,  "I  have  n't  fully  realized  —  let 
me  bring  in  a  supply." 


THE  KEY  NOTE 


"No,  no,  indeed,  Miss  Wilbur,"  exclaimed 
Miss  Priscilla,  as  she  moved  through  the 
living-room  of  the  house  into  the  kitchen, 
closely  followed  by  Diana.  "It  ain't  that  I 
ain't  able  to  do  it,  but  it  makes  me  darned 
mad  when  I  know  there's  no  need  of  it." 

"But  I  desire  to,  Miss  Burridge,"  averred 
the  young  girl.  "Any  form  of  movement  here 
cannot  fail  to  be  one  of  joy."  She  seized  an 
empty  bucket  from  the  sink  and  went  out 
the  back  door. 

Small  groves  of  evergreen  dotted  the  incline 
behind  the  house,  and  on  the  right  hand  soon 
became  a  wood-road  of  stately  fir  and  spruce, 
which  led  to  a  sun-warmed  grassy  slope 
which,  like  every  hill  of  the  lovely  isle,  led 
down  to  the  jagged  rocks  that  fringed  its 
irregular  shore. 

"My  muscular  strength  is  not  excessive," 
panted  Diana,  struggling  up  to  the  back  door 
with  her  heavy  bucket.  "  I  '11  fill  it  only  half- 
full  next  time." 

"You  ain't  goin'  to  fill  it  at  all,"  declared 
Miss  Priscilla  emphatically,  taking  the  pail 
from  her.  "That'll  last  me  a  long  time,  and 
when  it's  gone,  I'll  get  more  myself.  'Tain't 
that  it  does  me  a  bit  of  hurt,  but  it  riles  me 
when  I  know  there  ain't  any  need  of  it." 


THE  RAPSCALLION 


She  set  the  pail  down  beside  the  sink,  filled 
the  kettle  from  it,  and  set  it  on  the  oil  stove 
while  Diana  sat  down  on  the  back  doorstep. 
Then  she  proceeded: 

"One  o'  the  most  disagreeable  things  about 
this  world  is  that  we  do  seem  to  need  men. 
They  're  strong  and  they  don't  wear  skirts  to 
stumble  on,  and  when  they  're  willin'  and 
clever,  they  certainly  do  fill  a  need;  but  it 
does  seem  as  if  they  were  created  to  disap- 
point women.  They  don't  know  any  more 
about  keepin'  their  promises  than  they  do 
about  the  other  side  o'  the  moon." 

Diana  nodded.  "It  is  observable,  I  think," 
she  said,  "that  men's  natural  regard  for 
ethics  is  inferior  to  that  of  women." 

Miss  Priscilla  sniffed.  "Now  it  isn't  only 
the  plumber  and  the  carpenter.  I  came  here 
and  saw  'em  both  over  a  month  ago  and 
explained  my  needs;  explained  that  I  ain't 
calc'latin'  to  take  in  boarders  to  break  their 
legs  on  broken  piazzas,  or  drown  'em  in  their 
beds.  I  explained  all  this  when  I  rented  the 
house,  and  when  I  arrived  this  week  I  natu- 
rally expected  to  find  those  things  attended  to ; 
and  there's  Phil  Barrison,  too.  I've  known 
him  most  of  his  life.  He  has  relatives  here  on 
the  island,  and  when  I  heard  he  was  comin' 


THE  KEY  NOTE 


to  stay  with  'em  on  his  vacation,  I  asked  him 
if  he  would  n't  be  a  kind  of  a  handy-man  to 
me  and  he  said  he  would.  He  got  here  before 
I  did,  but  far  as  I  can  make  out  he 's  been 
fishin'  ever  since.  A  lot  of  help  he's  been. 
Oh,  I  knew  well  enough  he  was  a  broken  reed. 
If  ever  a  rapscallion  lived,  Phil's  it.  'Tain't 
natural  for  any  young  one  to  be  so  smart  as 
'he  was.  Do  you  believe  in  school  he  found  out 
that  by  openin'  and  shuttin'  his  geography 
real  slow,  he  could  set  the  teacher  to  yawn- 
in',  and,  of  course,  she'd  set  the  rest  of  'em 
off,  and  Phil  just  had  a  beautiful  time.  His 
pranks  was  always  funny  ones." 

Diana  Wilbur  gave  her  slow,  rare  smile. 
"What  an  interesting  bit  of  hypnosis!"  she 
remarked. 

"Hey?  Well,  when  that  boy  got  older,  he 
was  real  ambitious  to  study.  He 's  got  one  o* 
those  voices  that  ought  to  belong  to  a  cheru- 
bim instead  of  a  limb  like  him,  and  he  wanted 
lessons.  So  he  got  the  job  of  janitor  in  our 
church  one  winter.  I  got  onto  him  later. 
When  he'd  oversleep  some  awful  cold  mornin' 
and  arrive  too  late  to  get  the  furnace  to  work- 
in'  right,  that  rascal  would  drive  the  mercury 
up  and  loosen  the  bulb  of  the  thermometer 
so  that  when  the  folks  came  in  and  went  over 


THE  RAPSCALLION 


to  it  to  see  just  how  cold  they  was  goin*  to  be, 
they  'd  see  it  register  over  sixty-five  and  of 
course  they  'd  take  their  seats  real  satisfied." 

Miss  Wilbur  smiled  again.  "Your  friend 
certainly  showed  great  resource  and  ingenu- 
ity. When  those  traits  are  joined  to  lofty 
principle,  they  should  lift  him  to  heights  of 
success.  Oh,"  —  the  speaker's  attitude  and 
voice  suddenly  changed,  and  she  lifted  her 
finger  to  impose  silence  on  the  cooking  uten- 
sils which  Miss  Burridge  was  dropping  into 
the  sink,  —  "listen!" 

Mingled  with  the  roulade  of  a  song  sparrow 
on  the  roof,  came  the  flute  of  a  human  voice 
sounding  and  approaching  through  the  field. 

"Thou  'it  like  unto  a  flower, 
So  pure,  so  sweet,  so  fair  —  " 

The  one  road  of  the  island  swept  over  a 
height  at  some  distance  behind  the  house  and 
the  singer  had  left  it,  and  was  striding  down 
the  incline  and  through  the  meadow  toward 
Miss  Burridge's.  The  still  air  brought  the 
song  while  the  singer  was  still  hidden,  but  at 
last  the  girl  saw  him,  and  the  volume  of  rich 
tone  increased.  At  last  he  came  bounding  up 
the  slope  over  which  Diana  had  struggled 
with  her  heavy  bucket  a  few  minutes  before, 
and  then  paused  at  sight  of  the  stranger. 

7 


THE  KEY  NOTE 


He  was  a  tall,  broad-shouldered  youth  in  a 
dark-blue  flannel  shirt  and  nondescript  trou- 
sers. He  was  bareheaded,  and  locks  of  his 
thick  blond  hair  were  tumbling  over  his  fore- 
head. He  looked  at  Diana  with  curious, 
unembarrassed  blue  eyes,  and,  lips  parted, 
stopped  in  the  act  of  speaking. 

Miss  Burridge  came  to  the  door.  "Well,  at 
last,  Phil,"  she  remarked. 

"I  onlj  just  heard  this  morning  that  you 
had  come,"  he  said.  "Here's  a  peace  offer- 
ing." He  lifted  the  two  mackerel  that  were 
hanging  from  his  hand. 

"Beauties,"  vouchsafed  Miss  Burridge. 
"Are  they  cleaned?" 

"Well,  if  you  don't  look  a  gift  horse  - 

"Well,  now,  I  ain't  goin'  to  clean  'em," 
said  Miss  Burridge  doggedly.  "I've  been 
rubbed  the  wrong  way  ever  since  I  landed— 

Philip  laughed.  "And  you  won't  do  it  to 
them,  eh?  Well,  I  guess  I  can  rub  'em  the 
wrong  way  for  you  —  "  His  unabashed  eyes 
were  still  regarding  Diana  as  impersonally 
as  though  they  had  both  been  children  of 
five. 

"  Excuse  me,  I  am  obstructing  the  passage," 
said  the  girl,  rising. 

"This  is  Miss  Diana  Wilbur,  Phil.  I  sup- 
8 


THE  RAPSCALLION 


pose  you  're  Mr.  Barrison  now  that  you  have 
sung  in  New  York." 

The  young  fellow  bowed  to  the  girl  who 
acknowledged  the  greeting. 

"What  is  the  name  of  those  beautiful 
creatures?"  she  asked  with  her  usual  gentle 
simplicity  of  manner. 

"These?  Oh,  these  are  mackerel." 

"Jewels  of  the  deep,  surely,"  she  said. 

"They  are  rather  dressy,"  returned  Philip. 

Diana  bathed  him  in  the  light  of  her  serene 
brown  gaze. 

"I  am  so  ignorant  of  the  names  of  the  den- 
izens of  the  sea,"  she  said.  "I  come  from 
Philadelphia." 

Philip  returned  her  look  with  dancing  stars 
in  his  eyes.  "  I  'd  have  said  Boston  if  you  only 
wore  eyeglasses." 

"Oh,  that  is  the  humorous  tradition,  is  it 
not?"  she  returned. 

"Now,  don't  you  drip  'em  in  here,"  said 
Miss  Burridge,  as  the  young  fellow  started 
to  enter  the  kitchen  door.  "If  you're  really 
goin'  to  be  clever  and  clean  'em,  I  '11  give  you 
the  knife  and  everything  right  outdoors." 

"Then  I  think  I  would  better  withdraw," 
said  Diana  hastily.  "I  cannot  bear  to  see  the 
mutilation  of  such  a  rich  specimen  of  Nature's 

9 


THE  KEY  NOTE 


handiwork;  but,  oh,  Mr.  Barrison,  not  with- 
out one  word  concerning  the  heavenly  song 
that  floated  across  the  field  as  you  came. 
Miss  Burridge  calls  you  Phil;  —  'Philomel 
with  melody!'  /  should  say.  Au  revoir.  I  will 
go  down  among  the  pebbles  for  a  while." 

She  vanished,  and  Philip  regarded  Miss 
Burridge,  who  returned  his  gaze. 

"Good  night!"  he  said  at  last. 

"Sh!  Sh!"  warned  Miss  Priscilla,  and  tip- 
toed across  the  kitchen.  When  she  had  looked 
from  a  window  and  seen  her  boarder's  sweater 
and  tarn  proceeding  among  the  grassy  hum- 
mocks toward  the  sea,  she  returned,  bringing 
out  the  materials  for  Philip's  operations  on 
the  fish. 

"I'll  bring  a  rhetoric  instead  of fi^ny  deni- 
zens of  the  deep,  the  next  time  I  come,"  he 
continued,  settling  to  his  job. 

Miss  Priscilla  took  her  boarder's  deserted 
seat  on  the  doorstep. 

"Going  to  open  a  young  ladies'  seminary 
here,  and  got  the  teacher  all  secured?" 

"Nothing  of  the  kind,  Phil,  and  there's 
only  one  explanation  of  her,"  declared  Miss 
Priscilla  impressively.  "You've  been  in  art 
galleries  and  seen  these  statues  of  Venus  and 
Apollo  and  all  that  tribe?" 

10 


THE  RAPSCALLION 


"I  have." 

"Well,  sir,  all  I  can  think  of  is  that  one  o' 
their  Dianas  got  down  off  her  perch  some 
dark  night,  and  managed  to  get  hold  o'  some 
girl  clothes,  and  came  here  to  this  island. 
She  says  she  has  come  to  recuperate  from 
unwise  vigils  caused  by  vaulting  ambition 
at  school.  I  said  it  over  to  myself  till  I 
learned  it." 

"/  should  say  her  trouble  might  be  indiges- 
tion from  devouring  dictionaries,"  remarked 
Philip. 

"Well,  anyway,  she's  a  sweet  girl  and  it's 
all  as  natural  as  breathing  to  her.  At  first  I 
accused  her  in  my  own  mind  of  affectation, 
but,  there  I  she  has  n't  got  an  affected  bone  in 
her  body,  and  she  's  willin'  and  simple  as  a 
child.  You  'd  ought  to  'a'  seen  her  luggin' 
water  up  the  hill  for  me  this  mornin'.  That 
reminds  me.  You  promised  to  give  me  a  lift 
this  summer  when  I  needed  it." 

"At  so  much  a  lift,"  remarked  Philip. 

"Of  course.  Well,  the  first  thing  I  want  you 
to  do  rs  to  get  the  carpenter  and  the  plumber 
and  knock  their  heads  together,  and  then 
bring  'em  here,  one  in  each  hand,  so's  I  can 
have  my  house  ready  when  the  folks  come. 
Why,  my  new  stove  ain't  even  put  up.  Mr. 

ii 


THE  KEY  NOTE 


Buell,  the  plumber,  promised  me  faithful  he'd 
come  this  mornin'.  I  'm  cookin'  on  an  old 
kerosene  stove  there  was  here  and  managin' 
to  keep  Miss  Wilbur  from  sheer  starvation." 

"Miss  Wilbur?  Is  that  the  fair  Diana? 
Where  did  you  get  the  'old  master'?  Did 
she  find  you  waiting  when  she  got  off  the 
pedestal?" 

"No,  I  found  her  waiting.  She  came  to  the 
island  on  a  misunderstandin'.  There  wasn't 
any  one  ready  so  early  in  the  season  to  make 
strangers  comfortable,  and  it  seems  she  took 
a  fancy  to  this  place  and  I  found  her  here 
sittin'  on  the  steps  when  I  arrived.  She  said 
she  had  been  on  the  island  a  week  and  had 
walked  up  to  this  piazza,  every  pleasant  day, 
and  she  'd  like  to  live  here." 

"Did  she  really  say  it  as  plain  as  that?" 

"Well  —  I  don't  suppose  those  were  her 
exact  words,  but  she  made  me  understand 
that  she  was  willin'  to  come  right  in  for  better 
or  for  worse  just  so's  she  could  have  a  room 
up  there  in  front  where  the  dawn  —  yes,  she 
said  something  about  the  dawn,  I  forget 
whether  it  was  purple  or  rosy  —  " 

"Mottled,  perhaps,"  suggested  Philip. 

"Well,  anyway,  I  told  her  the  dawn  came 
awful  early  in  the  day  this  part  o'  the  year, 

12 


THE  RAPSCALLION 


and  that  probably  she'd  be  better  satisfied 
in  one  o'  the  back  rooms;  but  she  was  firm 
on  the  dawn,  so  she's  got  it.  But  I  draw  the 
line  at  her  gettin'  midnight  shower-baths,  and 
that's  what  she  will  get  if  that  wretch  of  a 
Matt  Blake  don't  get  here  before  the  next 
storm  and  put  on  the  shingles." 

"And  I  have  to  tell  the  plumber  that  you 
have  to  'haul  water'  too.  Is  that  it?  The 
well  is  some  little  distance.  Rather  hard  on 
the  statue,  was  n't  it,  to  do  the  hauling? 
She  '11  wish  she  'd  stayed  in  the  gallery.  I  '11 
bring  in  a  lot  before  I  go." 

"Don't  go,  Philip,"  begged  Miss  Priscilla. 
"Supposin'  you  don't  go,  not  till  you  can 
leave  me  whole-footed.  The  men '11  come 
sooner  and  work  better  if  they  know  there's 
a  man  here.  Your  grandma  won't  care  if  her 
visit 's  interrupted  for  a  little  while.  I  '11  feed 
you  with  your  own  mackerel  and  you  can  bet 
I  know  how  to  cook  'em." 

"Do  you  think  Matt  Blake  realizes  that 
I  'm  a  man?"  The  teeth  Philip  showed  in  his 
smile  were  an  asset  for  a  singer.  "He  helped 
teach  me  to  walk,  you  know." 

"Well,  now,  you  teach  him,"  retorted  Miss 
Priscilla.  "Show  him  how  to  walk  in  this 
direction.  I  don't  want  to  make  a  fizzle  of 

13 


THE  KEY  NOTE 


this  thing.  I  found  there  wa'n't  anybody 
goin'  to  run  the  place  this  summer,  so  I 
thought  it  might  be  a  good  job  for  me.  I 
never  took  a  thought  that  it  was  goin'  to  be  so 
hard  to  get  help.  They  tell  me  there  ain't  any 
servants  any  more;  and  there  are  enough 
folks  writin'  for  rooms  to  fill  me  up  entirely. 
I  can  do  the  cookin'  myself  —  " 

"Now,  Miss  Burridge,  you  are  n't  leading 
up  to  asking  me  to  put  on  an  apron  and  wait 
on  table,  are  you  ?  You  must  remember  I  'm 
recuperating  also  from  a  too  vaulting  ambi- 
tion." 

"Recuperatin',  nothin'!  You're  the  huski- 
est-lookin'  thing  I  ever  saw.  No,  I  ain't  goin' 
to  ask  you  to  wait  on  table;  but  I  've  got  an 
idea.  We  're  too  out  o'  the  way  here  for  me 
to  get  college  boys.  They'd  rather  go  to  the 
mountains  and  so  on  —  fashionable  resorts. 
But  I  've  got  a  niece,  if  she  don't  feel  too  big 
of  herself  to  do  that  sort  of  thing;  she  might 
come.  I  'm  goin'  to  ask  her  anyway.  I  have 
n't  seen  her  for  years  'cause  her  mother's  been 
gone  a  long  time  and  her  father  went  out  to 
Jersey  to  live,  but  I  've  no  doubt  she's  a  nice 
girl.  Her  name 's  Veronica.  Is  n't  that  a 
beater  ?  I  told  my  sister  I  could  n't  see  why  she 
did  n't  name  her  Japonica  and  be  done  with  it." 


THE  RAPSCALLION 


"It's  the  name  of  a  saint,"  remarked 
Philip. 

"Well,  I  hope  she's  enough  of  one  to  come 
and  help  me  out.  I  'm  goin'  to  ask  her." 

"Better  get  Miss  Wilbur  to  write  her  about 
the  rosy  dawn  and  the  jeweled  denizens.  I'm 
afraid  you'll  be  too  truthful  and  tell  about 
the  leaks.  With  an  'old  master'  and  a  saint, 
you  ought  to  get  on  swimmingly." 

"Well,  will  you  stay  with  me  a  few  days?" 
said  Miss  PrisciUa  coaxingly.  "If  I  had  a  rap- 
scallion to  add  to  the  menagerie  —  " 

"Do  you  mean  menage,  Miss  Burridge?" 

"I'll  call  it  anything  in  the  world  you  like, 
if  you'll  only  stand  by  me,  Phil." 

"All  right."  The  young  fellow  tossed  the 
second  cleaned  fish  on  to  the  plate.  "Let  me 
wash  my  hands  and  I  '11  go  and  throw  out  a 
line  for  the  plumber." 

"You're  a  good  boy,"  returned  Miss  Bur- 
ridge,  relieved.  "I  do  think,  Philip,  that  in 
the  main  you  are  a  good  boy !  Who  's  that 
comin'  over?"  Miss  Burridge  craned  her 
neck  and  narrowed  her  eyes  the  better  to 
observe  a  bicycle  which  appeared  across  the 
field. 

The  apparition  of  any  human  being  was 
exciting  to  one  responsible  for  the  comfort  of 

15 


THE  KEY  NOTE 


others  in  this  Arcadia,  where  modern  conven- 
iences could  only  be  obtained  by  effort  both 
spasmodic  and  continuous. 

"Oh,  it's  Marley  Hughes  from  the  post- 
office." 

A  youngster  of  fourteen  came  wheeling 
nonchalantly  over  the  bumps  of  the  field, 
and  finally  jumped  off  his  machine  and  came 
leisurely  up  the  rise  among  the  trees. 

"I  hoped  you  might  be  Matt  Blake,"  said 
Miss  Priscilla.  "He  's  got  as  far  as  to  have 
the  shingles  here." 

"Well,  I  ain't,"  remarked  Marley  in  the 
pleasant,  drawling,  leisurely,  island  voice. 

"What  you  got  for  me?"  inquired  Miss 
Burridge. 

"Telegram."  The  boy  brought  the  store 
envelope  from  his  pocket. 

"Oh,  I  hate  'em,"  said  Miss  Burridge  ap- 
prehensively. 

Marley  held  it  aggravatingly  away  from 
Philip's  extended  hand.  "Take  it  back  if  you 
want  me  ter,"  he  said  with  a  grin.  "It's  ten 
cents  anyway,  whether  you  take  it  or  not." 

"Oh,  yes,  I've  got  the  money  right  here." 
Miss  Priscilla  turned  to  a  shelf  over  the 
sink  and  took  a  dime  from  a  purse  which  lay 
there. 

16 


THE  RAPSCALLION 


"Here."  She  gave  it  to  Marley,  who  with- 
out more  ado  jumped  on  his  wheel  and 
coasted  down  among  the  trees  and  off  over 
the  soft  grass. 

"You  open  it,  Phil.  My  spectacles  ain't 
here  anyway,"  said  Miss  Priscilla  anxiously. 

So  Philip  tore  open  the  envelope.  The  look 
of  amazement  which  overspread  his  face  as 
the  message  greeted  him  caused  Miss  Bur- 
ridge  to  exclaim  fearfully:  "  Speak  out,  speak 
out,  Phil." 

"They  must  have  taken  this  down  wrong 
at  the  store,"  he  said.  Then  he  read  the 
scrawled  words  slowly.  "  'Look  in  broiler 
oven  for  legs.' ' 

The  cryptic  sentence  appeared  to  have  a 
magical  effect  upon  Miss  Priscilla.  Her  face 
beamed  and  she  threw  up  her  hands  in 
thanksgiving. 

"Glory  be!"  she  exclaimed  devoutly. 

"What  am  I  stumbling  on?"  said  Philip. 
"Have  you  taken  to  wiring  in  cipher?" 

"You  see,"  said  Miss  Priscilla  excitedly, 
reaching  for  the  telegram  which  Philip 
yielded,  "it  came  without  any  legs.  Mr.  Buell 
himself  looked  it  over  on  the  wharf  and  said 
he  couldn't  find  'em  anywhere;  and,  of 
course,  it  was  a  terrible  anxiety  to  me  and  I 

17 


THE  KEY  NOTE 


wrote  to  them  right  off,  and  I  was  goin'  to 
get  Mr.  Buell  to  set  it  up  without  the  legs 
if  necessary  and  stick  somethin'  else  under. 
Come  and  help  me  look,  Phil." 

Miss  Burridge  seized  the  young  fellow's 
arm  and  dragged  him  into  the  kitchen,  where 
in  one  corner  reposed  the  new  stove  in  its 
shining  newness,  its  parts  piled  ignomini- 
ously  lop-sided.  Talking  all  the  time,  its 
owner  pulled  open  one  door  after  another,  as 
Philip  disengaged  them,  and  at  last  she  laid 
hands  on  the  missing  treasure. 

"Now  I  '11  give  you  as  good  a  dinner  as  ever 
comes  off  this  stove  if  you  '11  go  and  get  those 
men  and  bring  'em  up  here,"  she  said. 
"Don't  leave  me  till  I  'm  whole-footed,  Phil." 

"Want  feet  as  well  as  legs,  do  you?"  he 
chuckled.  "All  right.  See  you  later  if  I  can 
get  Blake  and  Buell.  If  I  can't,  I  suppose  I  'd 
better  drown  myself." 

"  No,  no,  don't  do  that,  Phil.  You  're  better 
than  nothing,  yourself." 


CHAPTER  II 

VERONICA 

FOR  the  next  few  days  the  right  moment  for 
Philip  to  desert  Miss  Burridge  never  seemed 
to  arrive,  and  by  that  time  the  new  establish- 
ment had  come  to  be  in  very  good  running 
order,  which  was  fortunate,  as  the  expected 
boarders'  dates  were  drawing  near. 

Diana  approached  Philip  one  morning  with 
a  pleased  countenance.  He  was  encouraging 
the  hopeful  little  sweet  peas  that  stood  in  a 
green  row  below  the  porch.  She  came  and 
sat  on  the  rail  above  and  watched  him. 

"Miss  Burridge  is  going  to  allow  me  to 
name  our  domicile,"  she  announced. 

" Brave  woman!"  said  Philip,  coaxing  the 
brown  earth  up  against  the  line  of  green  with 
his  trowel. 

"Which  of  us  is  brave?"  asked  Diana, 
smiling,  —  "Miss  Priscilla  or  myself?" 

"What  are  you  going  to  call  it?  Olym- 
pus?" 

"Why  should  I?"  Diana  gave  a  soft, 
gurgling  laugh. 

"I  thought  perhaps  it  might  bring  happy 
memories  and  prove  a  palliation  of  nostalgia." 

19 


THE  KEY  NOTE 


"  I  always  have  a  feeling  that  you  are  amus- 
ing yourself  with  me,  Mr.  Barrison." 

"Have  you  any  objection  to  my  seeing 
that  you  are  a  goddess?  What  have  you 
done  with  Apollo,  by  the  way?  Couldn't 
you  persuade  him  to  leave  the  gallery?" 

"To  what  gallery  do  you  refer?  I  do  not 
particularly  care  for  handsome  men,"  was 
Miss  Wilbur's  thoughtful  response. 

"I'm  sorry  I'm  so  beautiful,  then,"  said 
Philip,  extending  his  little  earth  barricade. 

Diana  looked  down  from  her  balcony  on 
his  tumbling  blond  hair. 

"You  have  a  very  good  presence  for  your 
purpose,"  she  said. 

"What  is  my  purpose?" 

"The  concert  stage,  is  it  not?  Perhaps 
even  opera,  later?" 

"Yes,  divine  huntress,  if  I  ever  succeed  in 
making  it." 

"You  will  make  it  unless  you  are  unpar- 
donably  dilatory  and  neglectful.  Every  time 
you  utter  a  musical  tone  it  sends  a  vibration 
coursing  through  my  nerves  with  a  pleasant 
thrill." 

Philip  looked  up  at  the  speaker  with  his 
sea-blue,  curious  gaze,  which  she  received 
serenely. 

20 


VERONICA 

"Bully  for  you,  Miss  Wilbur.  That's  all  I 
can  say.  Bully  for  you." 

"I  am  glad  if  that  encourages  you,"  she 
said  kindly.  "It  is  quite  outside  my  own 
volition." 

"Then  I  don't  need  to  thank  you,  eh?" 

"Oh,  not  in  the  least." 

Philip  laughed  and  stooped  again  to  his  job. 

"Let  me  see,  Apollo  —  he  struck  liars  and 
knew  how  to  prescribe  for  the  croup,  did  n't 
he,  besides  being  a  looker  beyond  all  com- 
ers?" 

Diana  smiled.  "You  think  of  everything 
in  terms  of  humor,  do  you  not?"  she  re- 
joined. 

"Perhaps  —  of  most  things,  but  not  of 
you." 

"Oh,  I  think  of  me  most  of  all." 

"Far  from  it,"  said  Philip.  "I  wouldn't 
dare.  If  my  voice  gives  you  a  thrill,  yours 
gives  me  a  chill." 

"I  can't  believe  that  really,"  said  Diana 
equably,  watching  Philip's  expert  handling  of 
the  trowel.  "You  are  always  laughing  at  me. 
I  don't  in  the  least  understand  why,  but  it 
does  n't  matter  at  all.  I  think  it  is  a  quite 
laudable  mission  to  make  people  laugh.  What 
a  good  gardener  you  are,  Mr.  Barrison." 

21 


THE  KEY  NOTE 


"Oh,  isn't  he,  though!"  exclaimed  Miss 
Prisciila,  emerging  from  the  house.  "Think 
of  my  luck  that  Phil  really  likes  to  fuss  with 
flowers.  Ox-chains  could  n't  drag  him  to  do 
it  if  he  didn't  like  to." 

"Really?"  returned  Diana.  "Is  she  not 
maligning  you,  Mr.  Barrison?  Are  you  really 
the  slave  of  caprice?" 

"I  deny  it,"  said  Philip.  "It  doesn't 
sound  nice." 

"It  would  be  a  dire  thing  for  you,"  de- 
clared the  girl.  "  But  you  do  not  ask  me  what 
I  am  naming  the  Inn." 

"Oh,  it  is  an  Inn,  is  it?" 

"Yes,"  put  in  Miss  Prisciila.  "Since  the 
leaks  are  mended,  both  pipes  and  roof,  and 
the  stove's  up  and  the  chimney  draws,  I 
think  we  can  call  it  that." 

"What  is  it,  then?  'The  Dew  Drop'?" 
inquired  Philip. 

"I  particularly  dislike  puns,"  said  Diana 
quietly.  "I  like  'The  Wayside.'  Why  should 
n't  we  call  it  'The  Wayside  Inn'?" 

"You  have  my  permission,"  said  Philip. 

"We  do  not  need  anything  original,  but  we 
do  need  a  name  that  is  lovely.  'The  Way- 
side Inn'  is  lovely." 

"So  be  it,"  said  Philip. 

22 


VERONICA 

"And  you  're  not  forgettin'  what  you  are 
goin'  to  do  to-morrow,  are  you,  dear  boy?" 
said  Miss  Priscilla  ingratiatingly. 

"Not  if  it  isn't  to  go  again  for  the 
plumber,"  replied  Philip.  "His  wrenches  and 
hammers  are  too  handy;  and  I  'm  sure  one 
more  call  up  here  would  render  him  danger- 


ous." 


"Mr.  Buell  is  a  very  pleasant  man,"  said 
Diana.  "So  is  Mr.  Blake,  the  carpenter.  I 
have  learned  such  interesting  expressions 
from  them.  Mr.  Blake  was  showing  me  the 
fault  in  one  of  the  gables  of  this  house.  He 
said  the  builder  had  given  the  roof  a  'too 
quick  yank.'  Is  not  that  quaint?" 

"Ha,  ha,  ha,"  laughed  Philip  up  into  the 
girl's  serious  face.  "Bully  for  Matt.  You 
may  get  the  vernacular,  after  all." 

"I'm  not  quick,"  said  Diana.  "I'm  afraid 
I  should  not  prove  an  apt  pupil." 

"But,  Philip,"  said  Miss  Priscilla,  "about 
to-morrow.  You  know  you  '11  have  to  get 
the  early  boat  to  go  to  meet  Veronica.  It's 
perfectly  splendid  of  you  to  go,  dear  boy.  I 
don't  know  how  I  could  spare  the  time.  I  Ve 
got  to  get  several  rooms  ready  for  to-morrow, 
and  the  child  is  such  an  utter  stranger  in  this 
part  o'  the  world." 

23 


THE  KEY  NOTE 


"Oh,  yes,  I'll  go,"  said  Philip  carelessly. 
"I  think  the  Inn  will  be  relieved  that  I  can 
get  a  hair-cut.  My  tresses  are  nearly  ready 
to  braid  now." 

Diana  smiled  pensively.  "I  think  you  are 
very  amusing,  Mr.  Barrison,"  she  said. 

Philip  vaulted  up  over  the  railing  and  took 
a  seat  beside  her,  regarding  his  earth-stained 
hands  and  then  her  serene  countenance, 
whose  gaze  was  bent  upon  him.  He  shook  his 
head  to  toss  the  blond  forelock  out  of  his 
eyes. 

"So  my  voice  gives  you  a  thrill,  eh?" 

"Oh,  decidedly,"  was  the  devout  response. 

"That's  a  good  thing.  I  thought  perhaps 
you  could  n't  really  be  roused  from  your 
dreaminess  before  the  fourth  of  July,  but  I 
have  some  tones  that  in  that  case  will  be 
warranted  to  set  you  and  the  echoes  going  at 
the  same  time." 

Diana  clasped  her  hands.  "Oh,  utter 
them,"  she  begged. 

"Can't,"  laughed  Philip,  wiping  his  warm 
forehead  with  his  shirt-sleeve.  "The  stage 
is  n't  set." 

Diana  continued  to  look  imploringly  ar- 
dent. "  *  Drink  to  me  only  with  thine  eyes,' ' 
she  suggested. 

24 


VERONICA 

"That's  the  only  way  they'll  let  you  do 
it  nowadays,"  responded  Philip,  kicking  the 
heels  of  his  sneakers  gently  against  the  railing. 

Miss  Burridge  looked  over  her  spectacles 
at  Diana  in  her  beseeching  attitude,  and  her 
eyes  widened  still  further  as  the  girl  went  on 
slowly  with  her  brown  gaze  fixed  on  Philip's 
quizzical  countenance: 

"How  can  I  bear  to  leave  thee! 
One  parting  kiss  I  give  thee  —  " 

"Dear  me,"  thought  Miss  Priscilla.  "I'd 
never  have  believed  it  of  her."  And  it  oc- 
curred to  her  for  the  first  time  that  Philip 
Barrison  was  a  handsome  man. 

"Farewell,"  went  on  Diana,  with  soft  fer- 
vor. " '  Farewell,  my  own  true  love  —  ' 

"Farewell,"  sang  Philip,  falling  into  the 
trap  and  finishing  the  phrase.  "  'Farewe-ell, 
my  own  —  true  —  love.' ' 

"Oh,"  breathed  Diana,  and  the  way  her 
clasped  hands  fell  upon  her  heart  caused  Miss 
Priscilla  much  embarrassment. 

"I  can  scarcely  wait,"  said  the  girl  slowly, 
"to  hear  you  sing  a  real  song  with  a  real  ac- 
companiment. There  is  such  rare  penetrat- 
ing richness  in  the  quality  of  your  voice." 

Miss  Burridge  cleared  her  throat.  "I 
should  n't  wonder  if  Miss  Wilbur  was  a  real 


THE  KEY  NOTE 


help  to  you,  Phil,"  she  said.  "Young  folks 
need  encouragement." 

"And  soap-suds,"  added  Philip,  regarding 
his  earthy  hands  and  glancing  merrily  up  at 
Diana,  who  was  still  standing  in  her  attitude 
of  adoration;  but  there  was  no  answering 
merriment  in  those  brown  orbs.  Her  brain 
might  tell  her  later  that  Miss  Burridge's 
patronizing  remark  had  been  amusing,  but 
she  would  be  obliged  to  think  it  over. 

Philip  jumped  off  the  railing,  whistling, 
and  followed  Miss  Priscilla  into  the  house 
and  to  the  sink,  while  Diana,  reminiscently 
humming  "The  Soldier's  Farewell,"  de- 
scended the  steps  and  wandered  away. 

When,  the  next  day  in  town,  Philip  stood 
in  the  Union  Station  waiting  for  Veronica's 
train,  he  wondered  how  he  was  to  know  her, 
but  remembering  that  Miss  Burridge  spoke  of 
having  instructed  her  to  go  the  first  thing  to 
the  transfer  office  about  her  trunk,  he  turned 
his  steps  thither  as  the  crowds  poured  off  the 
train.  All  Boston  seemed  to  have  decided  to 
come  to  Maine  for  the  summer. 

Soon  he  saw  her  —  he  felt  at  once  it  was 
she  —  looking  about  undecidedly  as  she 
came.  She  was  a  short,  plump  girl  of  seven- 

26 


VERONICA 

teen  or  eighteen,  at  present  bent  a  little  side- 
ways from  the  weight  of  the  suitcase  she  was 
carrying.  Philip  strode  forward  and  seized 
the  suitcase  with  one  hand  while  he  lifted  his 
hat  with  the  other. 

"Here,  you  let  that  alone!"  said  the  girl 
decidedly,  her  round  eyes  snapping. 

"Isn't  this  Miss  Trueman?" 

"Why,  yes,  it  is,"  she  returned,  but  she  still 
looked  suspicious  and  clung  to  her  suitcase. 
Nobody  need  think  she  was  n't  up  to  all  the 
tricks.  "Did  my  aunt  send  you  to  meet  me?" 

"She  certainly  did." 

"Then  you  know  her  name.  What's  her 
name?"  The  upward  look  was  so  childlike 
in  its  shrewdness  that  it  stirred  the  spirit  of 
mischief. 

"Why  —  let  me  see,  Lucilla,  isn't  it?" 

"You  give  me  that  suitcase  this  minute." 
The  girl  pulled  on  the  handle  with  a  muscular 
little  hand. 

"Why,  Veronica,"  Philip's  smile  became  a 
laugh.  "  Santa  Veronica,  what  a  very  unsaint- 
like  voice  and  expression  you  're  using." 

She  laughed,  too,  then,  and  relinquished  her 
burden.  "You  do  know  me.  Who  are  you?" 

"Miss  Burridge's  man-of-all-work.  Name, 
Philip  Harrison." 

27 


THE  KEY  NOTE 


"  So  she  gave  you  such  a  job  as  this.  How 
did  you  pick  me  out?" 

"That  wild  look  around  for  the  transfer 
office."  They  were  now  moving  toward  it. 

"It  was  n't  wild.  I  didn't  need  you  at  all. 
Aunt  Priscilla  need  n't  have  bothered.  I 
have  a  tongue  in  my  head  and  money  in  my 
pocket,  and  Puppa  said  that's  all  anybody 
needs  if  she  has  any  brains." 

"But  I  have  to  do  what  my  employer 
orders,  you  see,"  replied  Philip. 

Veronica  looked  him  over.  Fresh  from  the 
barber  and  in  correct  summer  garb,  he  was  an 
extremely  good-looking  object. 

"Oh,  yes,  it  is  n't  your  fault,"  she  returned 
generously,  "but  is  it  a  swell  place  Aunt 
Priscilla 's  got?"  She  looked  him  over  again 
while  he  stopped  at  the  transfer  window  and 
checked  her  trunk. 

"The  Wayside  Inn,"  replied  Philip  with 
dignity. 

"Well,  I  Ve  come  to  help  her,"  said  the  girl. 
"  But  I  Ve  never  done  any  serving.  I  have  n't 
any  uniform  or  anything  like  that." 

"It  isn't  necessary.  Look  at  me.  I  don't 
look  like  a  footman  —  or  a  butler  —  or  any- 
thing like  that,  do  I?" 

"No,"  said  Veronica,  her  round  eyes  very 
28 


VERONICA 

serious.  "You  look  like  a  —  like  a  common 
—  gentleman." 

"Thank  you,  Miss  Trueman.  I  '11  try  to 
deserve  your  praise." 

Philip  took  her  and  her  suitcase  across 
town  in  a  cab,  and  aboard  the  little  steamer, 
and  found  the  best  spot  he  could  for  them 
to  sit. 

"Puppa  says  this  bay  is  noted  for  its  pic- 
turesqueness,"  said  Veronica,  when  they  were 
settled. 

"Quite  right,"  returned  Philip,  putting  in 
her  lap  one  of  the  magazines  he  had  bought 
on  the  wharf. 

"No,  thank  you,"  she  returned.  "I  shan't 
read.  I  'm  going  to  look.  Puppa '11  expect  me 
to  tell  him  all  about  it.  He  was  delighted  at 
my  having  a  chance  to  come  to  the  seashore. 
He  thought  it  would  do  my  health  so  much 
good." 

Philip  regarded  her  round  cheeks,  round 
eyes,  and  round,  rosy  mouth. 

"Your  health?  You  look  to  me  as  though 
if  you  felt  any  better  you  'd  have  to  call  the 
doctor." 

"Yes,  I  'm  not  really  ailing  —  but  I  freckle. 
Is  n't  it  a  shame?"  She  put  one  hand  to  her 
nose  which  had  an  upward  tilt. 

29 


THE  KEY  NOTE 


"Oh,  that's  all  right,"  laughed  Philip. 
"Call  'em  beauty  spots." 

She  sat,  pensively  continuing  to  cover  her 
nose  with  her  silk-gloved  hand. 

"Perhaps  you're  hungry.  I  ought  to  have 
bought  you  some  chocolates,"  said  Philip. 
"Perhaps  there's  time  still."  He  looked  at 
his  watch. 

Veronica  smiled.  It  was  a  pleasant  opera- 
tion to  view  and  disclosed  a  dimple.  "Did 
Aunt  Priscilla  give  you  money  to  buy  me 
candy?  Don't  bother.  I  have  some  gum. 
Would  you  like  some?"  As  she  spoke,  she 
opened  her  handbag. 

Philip  bent  a  dreadful  frown  upon  her. 
"Do  you  chew  gum?"  he  asked  severely. 

"Yes,  sometimes,  of  course.  Everybody 
does." 

"Then  you  deserve  to  freckle.  You  de- 
serve all  the  awful  things  that  can  befall  a 

girl." 

"Well,  for  a  hired  man,"  said  Veronica, 
her  hand  pausing  in  its  exploration,  "you 
have  the  most  nerve  of  any  one  I  ever  saw." 

She  seemed  quite  heated  by  this  condem- 
nation, and  instead  of  the  gum  drew  out  a 
vanity  box  and,  looking  in  the  mirror,  pow- 
dered her  nose  deliberately. 

30 


VERONICA 

Philip  opened  his  magazine.  The  whistle 
blew  and  the  boat  began  to  back  out  of  the 
slip.  Veronica  regarded  her  companion  from 
time  to  time  out  of  the  tail  of  her  eye,  and  at 
a  moment  when  his  manner  indicated  absorp- 
tion in  what  he  was  reading,  she  replaced  the 
vanity  case  in  her  bag  and  when  her  hand 
reappeared,  it  conveyed  something  to  her 
mouth. 

"I  would  n't,"  said  Philip,  without  looking 
up.  She  colored  hotly. 

"Nobody  asked  you  to,"  she  retorted. 

Then  all  was  silence  while  the  steamer, 
getting  its  direction,  began  moving  toward 
the  islands  that  dotted  the  bay. 

The  girl  suddenly  started. 

"If  there  are  n't  those  people!"  she  ejacu- 
lated. 

"What  people?"  asked  Philip. 

"They  came  on  in  the  same  car  with  me 
from  Boston.  See  that  dark  man  over  there 
with  a  young  boy?  I  could  n't  help  noticing 
them  on  the  train.  You  see  how  stupid  the 
boy  looks.  He  seemed  so  helpless,  and  the 
man  just  ignored  him  when  he  asked  ques- 
tions, and  treated  him  so  mean.  I  just  hate 
that  man." 

Philip  regarded  the  couple.  They  presented 

3' 


THE  KEY  NOTE 


a  contrast.  The  man  was  heavily  built  with 
a  sallow,  dark  face,  his  restless  eyes  and  body 
continually  moving  with  what  seemed  an 
habitual  impatience.  The  boy,  perhaps  four- 
teen years  of  age,  had  a  vacant  look,  his  lips 
were  parted,  and  his  position,  slumped  down 
in  a  camp-chair,  indicated  a  total  lack  of 
interest  in  his  surroundings. 

"Tell  me  about  Aunt  Priscilla,"  said 
Veronica  suddenly.  "I  haven't  seen  her 
since  I  was  twelve  years  old.  My  mother  died 
then.  She  was  Aunt  Priscilla's  sister  and 
Aunt  Pris  was  willing  to  take  me  if  Pa  wanted 
her  to,  but  he  did  n't  and  we  moved  away, 
and  I  've  never  seen  her  since.  Of  course,  she 
writes  sometimes  and  so  do  I.  Has  she  many 
boarders?" 

"Only  one  so  far,  but  then  she  's  a  goddess. 
You  've  read  your  mythology,  have  n't  you  ? 
This  is  the  goddess  Diana." 

"Say,  you're  awfully  fresh,  do  you  know 
that?"  remarked  Veronica.  "You  treat  me 
all  the  time  as  if  I  was  a  baby.  I  Ve  gradu- 
ated from  high  school  and  very  likely  I  know 
just  as  much  as  you  do." 

"I  should  n't  doubt  that,"  returned  Philip. 
"On  the  level,  you'll  see  when  you  get  to  the 
Inn  that  I  'm  telling  the  truth.  Diana  is 

32 


VERONICA 

passing  for  the  present  under  the  title  of  Miss 
Wilbur." 

"One  boarder!"  exclaimed  Veronica  with 
troubled  brow.  "Why,  Aunt  Priscilla  does  n't 
need  two  helpers  like  you  and  me." 

"Oh,  there  are  plenty  more  boarders  com- 
ing," said  Philip.  "This  boat  may  be  full  of 
them  for  all  we  know.  She  is  expecting  people 
to-night.  Let 's  look  around  and  decide  who 
we'll  take  up  there  with  us." 

"I'll  tell  you  one  person  I'd  choose  first 
of  all.  See  that  woman  with  her  back  to  us 
with  a  blue  motor  veil  around  her  shoulders? 
I  noticed  her  just  when  I  was  pointing  out 
that  devil  and  the  boy  to  you." 

"You  use  strong  language,  Miss  Trueman. 
Could  n't  you  spare  my  feelings  and  call  our 
dark  friend  Mephisto?" 

"Sounds  too  good  for  him.  I  'd  like  to  use 
me-fist-o  on  him,  I  know  that."  Veronica 
giggled,  and  went  on:  "Do  you  see  her?" 

"I  do.  My  vision  is  excellent." 

"Well,  she  was  on  the  train,  too,  and  once 
I  saw  her  smile  at  that  poor  shy  boy  and 
show  him  how  to  get  a  drink  of  water.  We 
were  all  in  a  day  car.  Chair  car  crowded. 
You  can't  see  her  face,  but  she  's  the  sweetest 
thing."  Then  with  a  change  of  voice:  "Oh, 

33 


THE  KEY  NOTE 


wouldn't  it  jar  you!  There's  fuss-tail.  See' 
that  dame  with  the  white  flower  in  her  hat, 
looking  over  the  rail?  I  suppose  she  's  watch- 
ing to  see  if  the  fishes  behave  themselves. 
She  was  on  the  train,  too,  and  nothing  suited 
her  from  Boston  to  Portland.  She  was  too 
hot,  or  she  felt  a  draught,  or  she  did  n't  like 
the  fruit  the  train-boy  brought,  or  something 
else  was  wrong,  every  minute." 

"We  won't  take  her,  then,"  said  Philip. 

"I  should  say  not.  She'd  sour  the  milk. 
What 's  the  island  like?" 

"Diana  says  it  resembles  Arcadia  strik- 
ingly, and  she  ought  to  know." 

"But  I  never  was  in  Arcadia,"  objected 
Veronica. 

"Well,  it  is  just  a  green  hill  popping  right 
up  out  of  the  Atlantic,  with  plenty  of  New 
England  rocks  in  the  fields,  and  drifts  of 
daisies  and  wild  roses  for  decoration,  and 
huge  rocky  teeth  around  the  shore  that  grind 
the  waves  into  spray  and  spit  it  up  flying 
toward  the  sky." 

"What  kind  of  folks?  Just  folks  that  come 
in  summer?" 

"Not  at  all.  Old  families.  New  England's 
aristocracy.  These  islands  are  the  only  place 
where  there  are  no  aliens,  just  the  simon-pure 

34 


VERONICA 

descendants  of  Plymouth  Rock.  As  I  say\ 
aristocrats.  I  was  born  there." 

"You  were?"  returned  Veronica  curiously. 

"I  were." 

"Well,  I  was  born  in  Maine,  in  Bangor. 
I  guess  that's  just  about  as  good." 

"No,  it 's  not  as  good,"  said  Philip  gravely. 
"Nevertheless,  I  forgive  you." 

"Tell  me  more  about  the  island." 

"Well,  it  has  one  road." 

"Only  one  street?" 

"No,  no  street.  Just  one  road  which  has 
its  source  in  a  green  field  on  the  south  and 
loses  itself  in  the  beach  on  the  north  after  it 
has  passed  the  by-path  that  leads  to  the 
haunted  farm." 

"Oh,  go  away!"  scoffed  Veronica. 

"I  can't.  The  walking  won't  be  good  for 
another  hour." 

"Who  lives  at  the  farm?" 

"The  ha'nts." 

"Nobody  else?" 

"No,  it  isn't  likely.  It's  at  the  head  of 
Brook  Cove  where  the  pirates  used  to  come  in 
at  a  day  when  it  was  laughable  to  think  that 
passenger  boats  would  ever  touch  at  this 
island." 

Veronica's  eyes  grew  rounder  than  before. 

35 


THE  KEY  NOTE 


"Do  you  suppose  there  's  gold  packed  in 
around  there  if  people  could  only  find  it?" 

"  I  don't,  but  a  great  many  people  thought 
there  might  be.  It  is  much  more  fun  to  hunt 
for  pirate  gold  than  to  go  fishing  in  squally 
weather,  and  it  has  been  hunted  for,  faith- 
fully." ' 

"And  not  any  found?"  said  Veronica 
sympathetically. 

"That's  the  mournful  fact." 

"But  who  were  the  farmers,  and  why  did 
they  stop  farming?  Was  it  the  ghosts?" 

"No,  I  think  it  was  the  rocks.  It  was 
found  more  profitable  to  farm  the  sea.  You 
know  abandoned  farms  are  fashionable  in 
New  England,  anyway,  so  the  ghosts  have 
a  rather  swell  residence  at  the  old  Dexter 
place.,  I  spent  the  first  eight  years  of  my  life 
on  the  island.  Then  it  was  an  undiscovered 
Arcadia.  Now  —  why,  you  will  go  up  to  The 
Wayside  Inn  in  a  motor  —  that  is,  if  I  can 
get  hold  of  Bill  Lindsay  before  somebody  else 
grabs  him.  Lots  of  people  know  a  good  thing 
when  they  see  it,  and  lots  of  people  have  seen 
the  island." 

The  wharf  was  full  of  people  to  welcome 
the  little  steamer  as  it  drew  in,  and  there  was 
a  grand  rush  of  passengers  for  the  coveted 

36 


VERONICA 

motor.  It  seemed  to  Veronica  that  she  heard 
her  aunt's  name  on  many  lips,  and  Philip 
found  himself  feeling  responsible  for  the  trunk 
checks  of  everybody  who  was  seeking  Miss 
Burridge. 

The  upshot  of  it  all  was,  by  the  time  he  had 
safeguarded  the  baggage  of  the  arrivals  and 
sent  them  on  their  way,  he  and  Veronica  were 
left  to  climb  the  road  and  pursue  the  walk 
toward  home. 

"Did  n't  that  old  hawk-nose  say  he  was 
going  to  Aunt  Priscilla's?" 

"It's  a  very  good-looking  nose,"  remarked 
Philip.  "But  so  far  as  I  could  see,  all  your 
friends  of  the  train  were  bound  for  the  same 
place." 

"He  '11  be  lucky,"  said  Veronica  viciously, 
"if  I  don't  put  Paris  green  in  his  tea.  Oh, 
what  a  beautiful  view  of  the  sea!"  she  ex- 
claimed as  they  reached  the  summit  of  the 
hill. 

They  had  not  walked  far  when  Bill  Lind- 
say's Ford  came  whirring  back  over  the  much- 
traveled  road,  and  he  turned  around  for  them. 

"After  all,"  said  Philip,  as  the  machine 
started  back  up  the  island,  "your  lady  of 
the  blue  veil  should  set  off  the  affliction  of 
Mephisto's  presence." 

37 


THE  KEY  NOTE 


"Did  she  come?"  asked  Veronica  de- 
lightedly 

"Yes,  did  n't  you  see  me  pack  her  in  with 
the  woman  whose  halo  won't  fit?  The  dull 
boy  sat  between  them." 

"Well,"  said  Veronica,  "then  there's  no 
great  loss  without  some  small  gain." 

When  the  motor  reached  the  Inn,  Miss 
Priscilla  was  pleased  with  the  way  Veronica 
droppec1  her  hat  and  jacket  in  the  kitchen, 
and  after  drinking  the  one  cup  of  cocoa  upon 
which  her  aunt  insisted,  was  ready  to  help  her 
carry  in  the  late  supper  for  the  new  guests 
with  whom  Philip  sat  down  at  table.  Veron- 
ica, coming  and  going,  tried  to  make  out  his 
status  in  the  house. 

"That  Mr.  Barrison  you  sent  to  meet  me," 
she  said  to  her  aunt  when  the  meal  was  over, 
"told  me  he  was  your  man-of-all-work.  He 
don't  act  much  like  it." 

"Law,  child,"  Miss  Priscilla  laughed.  "He 
has  been  lately.  Phil's  a  dear  boy  when  he 
is  n't  a  wretch,  and  he  's  helped  me  out  ever 
since  I  came.  I  won't  ever  forget  how  good 
he  's  been.  Now,  let 's  sit  down  and  let  me 
see  you  eat  this  fresh  omelette  and  tell  me 
all  about  yourself.  I  see  you  're  just  like 
your  mother,  handy  and  capable,  and  let 

38 


VERONICA 

me  tell  you,  it  takes  a  big  load  off  me,  Ve- 
ronica." 

Just  as  she  finished  speaking,  Diana  Wilbur 
came  in  from  the  twilight  stroll  she  had  been 
taking. 

"Miss  Wilbur,  this  is  my  little  niece, 
Veronica  Trueman,"  said  Miss  Priscilla. 
"  She  has  come  to  help  me,  and  high  time,  too. 
Four  people  came  to-night  and  there  will  be 
more  to-morrow." 

Diana  approached  the  newcomer  and 
looked  down  upon  her  kindly  after  taking  her 
offered  hand. 

"You  must  have  had  an  inspiring  ride 
down  the  bay,  Miss  Veronica,"  she  said.  "I 
have  been  taking  a  walk  to  see  the  sun  set. 
It  was  heavenly  to-night.  Such  translucent 
rose-color,  and  violet  that  shimmered  into 
turquoise,  and  robin's-egg  blue.  How  for- 
tunate for  the  new  people  to  get  that  first 
impression!  Well,  Miss  Burridge,"  Diana 
sighed.  "Of  course  we  must  be  glad  to  see 
them,  but  it  has  been  a  very  subtle  joy  to 
retire  and  to  waken  with  no  human  sounds 
about  us.  I  shall  always  remember  this  last 
two  weeks." 

"I'm  glad  you  feel  that  way,"  said  Miss 
Priscilla.  "  I  thought,  though,  that  you  'd 

39 


THE  KEY  NOTE 


heard   lots   o'   sounds.  Phil   makes   enough 
noise  for  a  regiment  when  he  is  dressin'  in  the 


mornin'." 


"You  can  scarcely  call  such  melodious 
tones  noise,  can  you?'*  replied  Miss  Wilbur 
gently.  "His  flute  is  more  liquid  than  that 
of  the  hermit  thrush." 

"I  never  heard  him  play  the  flute."  Miss 
Priscilla  looked  surprised. 

"I  refer  to  the  marvelous,  God-bestowed 
instrument  that  dwells  within  him,"  ex- 
plained Diana. 

"I  think  myself,"  said  Miss  Priscilla,  clear- 
ing her  throat,  "that  it's  kind  o'  cozy  to  hear 
a  man  whistlin'  and  shoutin'  around  in  the 
mornin'  while  he's  dressin'.  I  suppose  he'll 
be  leavin'  us  pretty  soon  now.  I  hate  to  see 
him  go,  he  's  gettin'  the  plants  into  such  good 
shape;  and  was  n't  he  good  about  scythin' 
paths  so  we  would  n't  get  wet  to  our  knees 
every  time  we  left  the  house?  I  don't  know 
how  you  ever  had  the  courage  to  wade  over  to 
this  piazza,  before  I  came,  Miss  Wilbur." 

"Mr.  Barrison  certainly  did  smooth  our 
paths." 

"He  told  me  he  was  Aunt  Priscilla's  man- 
of-all-work,"  said  Veronica,  busy  with  her 
omelette. 

40 


VERONICA 

"So  he  has  been,"  replied  Diana  seriously: 
"out  of  the  goodness  of  his  heart  and  the 
cleverness  of  his  hands;  but  he  is  a  great 
artist,  Miss  Veronica,  or  at  least  he  will  be." 

"Do  you  mean  he  paints?" 

"No,  he  sings:  and  it  is  singing  —  such  as 
must  have  sounded  when  the  stars  sang  to- 
gether." 

"Dear  me,"  said  Veronica,  "I  wish  I'd 
asked  him  to  pipe  up  when  we  were  on  the 
boat." 

Diana  let  her  gaze  rest  for  a  moment  of 
silence  on  the  sacrilegious  speaker,  then  she 
excused  herself,  saying  she  would  go  up  to  her 
room. 

As  soon  as  the  door  had  closed  behind  her, 
Veronica  looked  up  and  bestowed  upon  her 
aunt  a  meaning  wink. 

"She  's  got  it  bad,  has  n't  she?"  she  said. 

Miss  Burridge  put  her  finger  to  her  lips 
warningly.  "Sh!"  she  breathed.  "Some- 
times I  think  she  has:  but,  law,  Phil's  noth- 
ing but  a  boy." 

"And  she 's  nothing  but  a  girl,"  said 
Veronica  practically.  "That's  the  way  it 
usually  begins." 

Miss  Burridge  laughed.  "What  do  you 
know  about  it,  you  child?" 

41 


THE  KEY  NOTE 


"Not  so  much  as  I  'd  like  to.  Puppa  would 
never  let  anybody  stay  after  ten  o'clock,  and 
you  don't  really  get  warmed  up  before  ten 
o'clock." 

"Why,  Veronica  Trueman,  how  you  talk!" 

"Don't  speak  of  how  /  talk!"  said  Veron- 
ica. "Has  n't  that  Miss  Wilbur  got  language! 
I  guess  Mr.  Barrison  likes  her,  too.  He  told 
me  she  was  a  goddess." 

"Oh,  Phil's  just  full  of  fun.  He  always  will 
be  a  rapscallion  at  heart,  no  matter  how 
great  he  ever  gets  to  be." 

"Well,  he  does  n't  want  anybody  else  to 
stop  saying  prunes  and  prisms.  He  did  n't 
even  want  me  to  chew  gum.  Anybody  that 's 
as  unnatural  as  that  had  better  marry  a  god- 
dess. Now,  let's  go  for  those  dishes,  Aunt 
Priscilla." 

"You  good  child!"  said  Miss  Burridge 
appreciatively.  "I  can't  really  ask  Gene- 
vieve  to  stay  in  the  evenin'.  She 's  the  little 
girl  who  comes  every  day  and  prepares  vege- 
tables and  washes  dishes.  Now,  one  minute, 
Veronica,  while  I  get  the  names  o'  these  new 
people  straight.  I've  got  their  letters  here." 
Miss  Priscilla  took  them  down  from  the 
chimney-piece.  "There  's  Mrs.  Lowell,  she  's 
.  alone,  and  Miss  Emerson,  she  's  alone,  and 

42 


VERONICA 

Mr.  Nicholas  Gayne  and  his  nephew,  Herbert 
Gayne.  I  wonder  how  long  I  '11  remember 
that." 

"I  know  them  all,"  said  Veronica  senten- 
tiously.  "The  whole  bunch  came  on  in  the 
same  car  with  me  from  Boston.  It's  my  plan 
to  poison  Mr.  Gayne." 

"Don't  talk  that  way,  child." 

"You  '11  agree  to  it  when  you  see  how  mean 
he  is  to  his  nephew.  The  boy  isn't  all  there." 

"What  do  you  mean?" 

"Has  rooms  to  let  in  the  upper  story,  you 
know."  Veronica  touched  her  round  fore- 
head. "Mrs.  Lowell  is  a  queen  and  Miss 
Emerson  isn't;  or  else  Miss  Emerson  is  a 
queen  and  Mrs.  Lowell  is  n't.  I  '11  know  which 
is  t'other  to-morrow." 

"You  seem  to  have  made  up  your  mind 
about  them  all." 

"Oh,  yes!"  said  Veronica.  "You  don't 
have  to  eat  a  whole  jar  of  butter  to  find  out 
whether  it's  good.  All  I  need  is  a  three- 
minute  taste  of  anybody,  and  I  had  three 
hours  and  a  half  of  them.  Now,  come  on, 
Aunt  Priscilla,  let's  put  some  transparent 
water  in  the  metal  bowl,  and  the  snowy  foam 
of  soap  within  it."  She  rolled  up  her  naughty 
eyes  as  she  spoke. 

43 


THE  KEY  NOTE 


Miss  Burridge  gave  the  girl  a  rebuking 
look,  and  then  laughed.  "Don't  you  go  to 
makin'  fun  of  her  now,"  she  said.  "She's  my 
star  boarder,  no  matter  who  else  comes,  /'m 
in  love  with  her  whether  Phil  is  or  not.  She  's 
genuine,  that  girl  is,  —  genuine." 

"And  you  don't  want  me  to  be  imitation," 
giggled  Veronica.  "I  see." 

Then  the  two  went  at  the  clearing-up  and 
dish-washing  in  high  good-humor. 


CHAPTER  III 


"You,  Veronica,"  said  Miss  Burridge  one 
morning,  looking  out  of  the  kitchen  window. 
"I  feel  sorry  for  that  young  boy." 

"I  told  you  you  would.  Old  Nick  should 
worry  what  his  nephew  does  with  himself 
all  day." 

"Veronica!"  Miss  Priscilla  gave  the  girl  a 
warning  wink  and  motioned  with  her  hand 
toward  the  sink  where  Genevieve,  her  hair  in 
a  tight  braid  and  her  slender  figure  attired  in 
a  scanty  calico  frock,  was  looking  over  the  bib 
of  an  apron  much  too  large  for  her,  and  wash- 
ing the  breakfast  dishes. 

"Excuse  me,"  said  Veronica  demurely.  "I 
meant  to  say  Mr.  Gayne.  Genevieve,  you 
must  never  call  Mr.  Gayne  'Old  Nick.'  Do 
you  hear?" 

"Veronica!"  pleaded  Miss  Burridge. 

"Oh,  we  all  know  Mr.  Gayne,"  said  Gene- 
vieve, in  her  piercing,  high  voice  which  al- 
ways seemed  designed  to  be  heard  through 
the  tumult  of  a  storm  at  sea. 

"He  has  been  here  before,  then?"  asked 
Miss  Burridge. 

45 


THE  KEY  NOTE 


"  Pretty  near  all  last  summer.  He  comes  to 
paint,  you  know." 

"No,  I  didn't  know  he  was  an  artist." 

"Oh,  yes,  he  paints  somethin'  grand,  but 
I  never  saw  any  of  his  pitchers." 

"Was  his  nephew  with  him  last  summer?" 

"No,  I  don't  believe  so.  I  never  saw  any- 
body around  with  him.  He  spent  most  of 
his  time  up  to  the  Dexter  farm.  He  said  he 
could  paint  the  prettiest  pitchers  there.  It 
was  him  seen  the  first  ghost." 

"What  are  you  talking  about,  Gene- 
vieve?"  asked  Miss  Burridge,  while  Veron- 
ica busied  herself  drying  the  glass  and  silver. 

"Oh,  yes,"  she  put  in.  "That  is  the  haunt- 
ed farm.  Mr.  Barrison  was  telling  me  about 
it." 

"Yep,"  said  Genevieve.  "Folks  had  said 
so  a  long  time  and  heard  awful  queer  noises 
up  there,  but  Mr.  Gayne  was  the  first  who 
really  seen  the  spook." 

"I  'm  not  surprised  that  he  had  a  visitor," 
said  Veronica.  "Dollars  to  doughnuts,  it  had 
horns  and  hoofs  and  a  tail." 

"That 's  what  Uncle  Zip  said,"  remarked 
Genevieve.  "He  said  'twa'n't  anything  but 
an  old  stray  white  cow." 

Veronica  laughed,  and  her  aunt  met  her 
46 


A  FRIENDLY  PACT 


mischievous  look  with  an  impressive  shake 
of  the  head.  "Mind  me,  now,"  she  said,  and 
Veronica  did  not  pursue  the  subject. 

The  long  porch  across  the  front  of  the  Inn 
made,  sometimes  a  sunny,  and  sometimes  a 
foggy,  meeting-place  for  the  members  of  the 
family.  It  boasted  a  hammock  and  some 
weather-beaten  chairs,  and  Miss  Myrna 
Emerson  was  not  tardy  in  discovering  the  one 
of  these  which  offered  the  most  comfort.  She 
was  a  lady  of  uncertain  age  and  certain  ideas. 
One  of  the  latter  was  that  it  was  imperative 
that  she  should  be  comfortable. 

"I  should  think  Miss  Burridge  would  have 
some  decent  chairs  here,"  she  said  one  morn- 
ing, dilating  her  thin  nostrils  with  displeasure 
as  she  took  possession  of  the  most  hopeful  of 
the  seats. 

The  remark  was  addressed  to  Diana  who 
was  perched  on  the  piazza  rail. 

"Doubtless  they  will  be  added,"  she  said, 
"should  Miss  Burridge  find  that  her  under- 
taking proves  sufficiently  remunerative." 

"She  charges  enough,  so  far  as  that  goes," 
declared  Miss  Emerson  curtly,  but  finding 
the  chair  unexpectedly  comfortable,  she  set- 
tled back  and  complained  no  further. 

Philip  was  out  on  the  grass  painting  on  a 

47 


THE  KEY  NOTE 


long  board  the  words  "Ye  Wayside  Inn." 
Herbert  Gayne  stood  watching  him  listlessly. 
His  uncle  was  stretched  in  the  hammock. 
Mrs.  Lowell  came  out  upon  the  porch.  Mr. 
Gayne  moved  reluctantly,  but  he  did  arise. 
Men  usually  did  exert  themselves  at  the  ad- 
vent of  this  tall,  slender  lady  with  the  radiant 
smile  and  laughing  eyes. 

"Perhaps  you  would  like  the  hammock, 
Mrs.  Lowell,"  he  said  perfunctorily. 

"Offer  it  to  me  some  time  later  in  the  day," 
she  responded  pleasantly,  and  he  tumbled 
back  into  the  couch  with  obvious  relief. 

Mrs.  Lowell  approached  the  rail  and  ob- 
served Philip's  labors. 

"Where  are  you  going  to  hang  that  sign?" 
she  asked  in  her  charming  voice.  "Across  the 
front  of  the  house,  I  judge." 

"Oh,  no,"  replied  Philip.  "We  can't  hope 
to  attract  the  fish.  I  am  going  to  hang  it  at 
the  back  where  Bill  Lindsay's  flivver  will  feel 
the  lure  before  it  gets  here." 

"Across  the  back  of  the  house,"  cried  Miss 
Emerson  in  alarm.  "I  hope  nowhere  near 
my  window." 

"The  sign  will  depend  from  iron  rings," 
explained  Diana. 

"I  know  they'll  squeak,"  said  Miss  Emer- 

48 


A  FRIENDLY  PACT 


son  positively;  "and  if  they  do,  Mr.  Barn- 
son,  you  '11  simply  have  to  take  it  down." 

No  one  replied  to  this  warning.  So  Miss 
Emerson  dilated  her  nostrils  again  with  an  air 
of  determination  and  leaned  back  in  her  chair. 

The  eyes  of  both  Mrs.  Lowell  and  Diana 
were  upon  the  young  boy  whose  watching 
face  betrayed  no  inspiration  from  the  fresh 
morning.  He  had  an  ungainly,  neglected 
appearance  from  his  rough  hair  to  his  worn 
shoes.  His  clothes  were  partially  outgrown 
and  shabby. 

"Bert,"  called  his  uncle  from  the  ham- 
mock. The  boy  looked  up.  "Come  here. 
Don't  you  hear  me?"  The  boy  started  to- 
ward the  piazza  steps  with  a  shuffling  gait. 

"You're  slower  than  molasses  in  January," 
said  Mr.  Gayne  lazily.  "Go  up  to  my  room 
and  get  my  field-glasses.  They're  on  the 
dresser,  I  think." 

Without  a  word  the  boy  went  into  the 
house  and  Diana  and  Mrs.  Lowell  exchanged 
a  look.  Each  was  hoping  the  messenger 
would  be  successful  and  not  draw  upon  him- 
self a  reprimand  from  the  dark,  impatient 
man  smoking  in  the  hammock. 

The  boy  returned  empty-handed.  "They 
—  they  were  n't  there,"  he  said. 

49 


THE  KEY  NOTE 


"Were  n't  where,  stu — "  Mr.  Gayne  en- 
countered Mrs.  Lowell's  gaze  as  he  was  in 
the  middle  of  his  epithet.  Her  eyes  were  not 
laughing  now,  and  he  restrained  himself. 
"Were  n't  on  the  dresser,  do  you  mean?"  he 
continued  in  a  quieter  tone.  "Well,  did  n't 
you  look  about  any?" 

"Yes,  sir.  I  looked  on  the  —  the  tftmk  and 
on  the  —  the  floor." 

Mr.  Gayne  emitted  an  inarticulate  sound 
which,  but  for  the  presence  of  the  ladies, 
would  evidently  have  been  articulate.  "Oh, 
well,"  he  groaned,  rising  to  a  sitting  posture 
on  the  side  of  the  hammock,  "I  suppose  I 
shall  have  to  galvanize  my  old  bones  and  go 
after  them  myself." 

His  nephew's  blank  look  did  not  change. 
He  stood  as  if  awaiting  further  orders,  and 
his  listless  eyes  met  Mrs.  Lowell's  kindly 
gaze. 

"It  is  good  fun  to  look  through  field-glasses 
in  a  place  like  this,  is  n't  it,  Bertie?"  she  said. 

The  boy's  surprise  at  being  addressed  was 
evident.  "I  —  I  don't  know,"  he  replied. 

His  uncle  laughed.  "That's  all  the  answer 
you  '11  ever  get  out  of  him,  Mrs.  Lowell.  He 's 
the  champion  don't-know-er." 

The  boy's  blank  look  continued  the  same. 

So 


A  FRIENDLY  PACT 


It  was  evident  that  his  uncle's  description  of 
him  was  nothing  new. 

"I  don't  believe  that,"  said  Mrs.  Lowell. 
"I  think  Bertie  and  I  are  going  to  be  friends. 
I  like  boys." 

The  look  she  was  giving  the  lad  as  she  spoke 
seemed  for  a  moment  to  attract  his  attention. 

"You  won't  —  you  won't  like  me,"  he  said 
in  his  usual  wooden  manner. 

"Children  and  fools,"  laughed  his  uncle, 
rising  from  the  hammock. 

"Mr.  Gayne!"  exclaimed  Diana,  electri- 
fied out  of  her  customary  serenity. 

The  man's  restless,  dark  eyes  glanced 
quickly  from  the  face  of  one  woman  to  an- 
other, even  alighting  upon  Miss  Emerson 
whose  countenance  only  gave  its  usual  indi- 
cation that  the  lady  had  just  detected  a  very 
unpleasant  odor. 

He  laughed  again,  good-naturedly,  and  as 
he  passed  his  nephew  gave  him  a  careless, 
friendly  pat  on  the  shoulder.  The  unexpected 
touch  startled  the  boy  and  made  him  cringe. 

"Bert  believes  honesty  is  the  best  policy," 
he  said.  "Don't  you,  Bert?" 

:<Yes,  sir,"  replied  the  boy  automatically. 

"Sit  down  here  a  minute,  won't  you, 
Bertie?"  asked  Mrs.  Lowell,  making  a  place 


THE  KEY  NOTE 


beside  her  on  the  piazza  rail.  The  boy 
obeyed.  "Have  you  ever  seen  this  great 
ocean  before?" 

"No.  Yes.  I  don't  know." 

"Why,  yes,  you  do  know,  of  course,"  said 
Mrs.  Lowell,  with  a  soft  little  laugh,  very 
intimate  and  pleasant.  "You  know  whether 
you  have  seen  the  ocean  before." 

The  boy  regarded  her,  and  in  the  surprise 
of  being  really  challenged  to  think,  he  medi- 
tated. 

"No,"  he  said,  at  last.  "I  Ve  never  been 
here  before." 

"Isn't  it  a  beautiful  place?"  asked  Mrs. 
Lowell. 

"I  don't  know,"  returned  the  boy  after  a 
hesitation.  Then  he  looked  down  on  the 
grass  at  Philip. 

"Do  you  want  to  go  back  and  watch  Mr. 
Harrison  paint?" 

"Yes." 

"All  right.  Run  along.  We'll  talk  some 
other  time." 

The  boy  rose  and  shuffled  across  the  porch 
and  down  the  steps. 

"Mrs.  Lowell,  it  is  heart-breaking!"  ex- 
claimed Diana  softly. 

Her  companion  nodded. 

52 


A  FRIENDLY  PACT 


"The  situation  is  incomprehensible,"  said 
Diana.  "It  seems  as  if  Mr.  Gayne  had  some 
ulterior  design  which  impelled  him  to  stultify 
any  outcropping  of  intelligence  in  his  nephew. 
Have  you  not  observed  it  from  the  moment 
of  their  arrival?" 

"Yes,  and  before  we  arrived.  I  noticed 
them  on  the  train." 

"If  there's  anything  I  can't  bear  to  have 
around,  it's  an  idiot,"  said  Miss  Emerson. 
"It  gives  me  the  creeps.  If  he  hangs  about 
much,  I  shall  complain  to  Miss  Burridge." 

The  sweep  of  the  ocean  and  the  rush  of  the 
wind  made  her  remark  inaudible  beyond  the 
piazza.  Mrs.  Lowell  turned  to  her. 

"  I  think  we  all  have  a  mission  right  there, 
perhaps,  Miss  Emerson.  The  boy  is  not  an 
idiot.  I  have  observed  him  closely  enough  to 
be  convinced  of  that.  He  is  a  plant  in  a  dark 
cellar,  and  I  wonder  how  many  years  he  has 
been  there.  His  uncle's  methods  turn  him 
into  an  automaton.  If  you  keep  your  arm  in 
a  sling  a  few  weeks  you  know  it  loses  its 
power  to  act.  The  boy's  brain  seems  to  have 
been  treated  the  same  way.  His  uncle's  every 
word  holds  the  law  over  him  that  he  cannot 
think,  or  reason,  and  that  he  is  the  stupidest 
creature  living." 

53 


THE  KEY  NOTE 


"That  is  true,"  said  Diana.  "That  is  just 
what  he  does." 

Miss  Emerson  sniffed.  "Well,  I  did  n't 
come  up  to  Maine  on  a  mission.  I  came  to 
rest,  and  I  don't  propose  to  have  that  gawk 
prowling  around  where  I  am." 

Nicholas  Gayne  appeared,  his  binoculars 
in  his  hand.  "Would  you  ladies  like  to  look 
at  the  shipping?"  he  said,  approaching.  His 
manner  was  ingratiating,  and  Diana  con- 
quered the  resentment  filling  her  heart 
sufficiently  to  accept  the  glasses  from  his 
hand.  He  was  conscious  that  he  had  not 
made  a  good  impression.  "The  mackerel 
boats  are  going  out  to  sea  after  yesterday's 
storm,"  he  remarked.  "You  will  see  how 
wonderfully  near  you  can  bring  them." 

Diana  adjusted  the  glass  and  exclaimed 
over  its  power.  Miss  Emerson  jumped  up 
from  her  chair. 

"That 's  something  I  want  to  see,"  she 
said,  and  Diana  handed  her  the  glass  while 
Nicholas  Gayne  scowled  at  the  spinster's 
brown  "transformation."  He  was  not  desir- 
ous of  propitiating  Miss  Emerson,  who,  how- 
ever, pressed  him  into  the  service  of  helping 
her  adjust  the  screws  to  suit  her  eyes,  and 
was  effusive  in  her  appreciation  of  the  effect. 

54 


A  FRIENDLY  PACT 


"You  surely  are  a  benefactor,  Mr.  Gayne," 
she  said  at  last,  with  enthusiasm. 

"Let  me  be  a  benefactor  to  Mrs.  Lowell, 
too,"  he  returned,  and  the  lady  yielded  up 
the  glass. 

"That  is  the  great  Penguin  Light  beyond 
Crag  Island,"  he  said,  as  Mrs.  Lowell  ac- 
cepted the  binoculars.  "The  trees  hide  it  in 
the  daytime,  it  is  so  distant,  but  at  night  you 
will  see  it  flash  out." 

"It  is  so  interesting  that  you  are  familiar 
here,  Mr.  Gayne,"  said  Miss  Emerson.  "You 
must  tell  us  all  about  the  island  and  show  us 
the  prettiest  places." 

The  owner  of  the  binoculars  stirred  rest- 
lessly under  the  appealing  smile  the  lady  was 
bestowing  upon  him. 

"For  myself,  I  just  love  to  walk,"  she 
added  suggestively. 

"I  don't  do  much  walking,"  he  returned 
shortly.  "I  come  here  to  sketch." 

"Oh,  an  artist!"  exclaimed  Miss  Emerson, 
clasping  her  hands  in  the  extremity  of  her  de- 
light. "Do  you  allow  any  one  to  watch  you 
work  ?  Such  a  pleasure  as  it  would  be." 

"It  isn't,  though,"  said  Nicholas  Gayne 
with  an  uncomfortable  side-glance  at  his  ad- 
mirer. "My  daubs  are  n't  worth  watching." 

55 


THE  KEY  NOTE 


"Oh,  that  will  do  for  you  to  say,"  she  re- 
turned archly.  "I  have  done  some  sketching 
myself.  Perhaps  I  could  persuade  you  to  take 
a  pupil." 

"Nothing  doing,"  returned  the  artist 
hastily.  "We  all  come  up  here  to  rest,  don't 
we?"  he  added. 

"Oh,  I  suppose  so,"  sighed  Miss  Emerson. 
"But  I  do  hope  you  will  give  me  the  great 
pleasure  of  seeing  your  work  sometime."  She 
sank  back  into  her  chair  with  a  sigh. 

"That  is  a  very  fine  glass,"  remarked  Mrs. 
Lowell  as  she  returned  it  to  its  owner.  His 
brow  cleared  as  he  received  it. 

"Well,  I  must  be  off,"  he  said.  "I  must  n't 
waste  time  under  these  favoring  skies." 

"Oh,  Miss  Wilbur,"  said  Miss  Emerson, 
addressing  the  young  girl.  "Would  n't  it  be 
lovely  if  Mr.  Gayne  would  let  us  go  with  him 
and  watch  him  sketch?" 

"I  am  quite  ignorant  of  his  art,"  returned 
Diana,  rising  from  her  seat.  "And  I  still  have 
a  great  deal  of  exploring  to  do  on  my  own  ac- 
count." 

Nicholas  Gayne  cast  an  admiring  glance  at 
the  statuesque  lines  of  her  face  and  figure. 

"Perhaps  you  will  let  me  make  a  sketch 
of  you  one  of  these  days,  Miss  Wilbur."  He 

56 


A  FRIENDLY  PACT 


approached  the  piazza  rail  as  he  spoke  and 
his  voice  carried  down  to  where  Philip  was 
painting  under  the  eyes  of  the  silent,  watch- 
ing boy. 

Philip  looked  up,  and,  catching  the  expres- 
sion with  which  Gayne  seemed  to  be  apprais- 
ing the  young  girl,  he  ruined  one  of  the  «'s  in 
Inn  so  that  it  had  to  be  painted  out  and 
done  over. 

Veronica,  her  duties  finished  for  the  time 
being,  sallied  out  of  doors  and  approaching 
Philip  looked  curiously  at  his  work. 

"There's  nothing  the  matter  with  that," 
she  said  encouragingly,  and  the  others 
came  down  from  the  piazza,  to  praise  the 
painter.  Miss  Emerson  followed,  but  she 
looked  at  the  sign  doubtfully. 

"One  can't  help  being  sensitive,  can  one  ?" 
she  said  to  Gayne.  "And  the  wind  blows  so 
hard  all  the  time  up  here,  I  'm  afraid  that 
sign  is  going  to  squeak." 

"  Show  me  your  window, "  said  Philip  good- 
naturedly,  "and  I  '11  see  if  we  can't  avoid  it." 

So  they  all  went  around  to  the  back  of  the 
house  where  Philip  had  his  ladder  waiting 
and  the  sign  was  finally  placed  to  the  satis- 
faction of  everybody  except  Miss  Emerson, 
who  considered  it  on  probation. 

57 


THE  KEY  NOTE 


Nicholas  Gayne  was  still  conscious  that  he 
had  not  made  a  pleasing  impression  in  his 
treatment  of  his  nephew  and  it  was  no  part 
of  his  programme  to  attract  attention.  He 
approached  the  boy  now. 

"What  are  you  going  to  do  with  yourself, 
Bert?" 

"I  don't  know,"  was  the  answer. 

"Want  to  come  with  me  ?" 

"No,  sir." 

"Well,  that's  plain  enough,"  said  Gayne, 
laughing  and  looking  around  on  the  company. 

"He's  a  very  foolish  boy,"  said  Miss 
Emerson,  "when  he  has  an  opportunity  to 
watch  you  sketch." 

"  Oh,  Mr.  Gayne ! "  cried  Veronica.  "  Don't 
go  until  you  tell  us  about  the  haunted  farm. " 

"Where  did  you  ever  hear  about  that?" 
asked  the  artist,  looking  with  some  favor  on 
Veronica's  round  and  dimpled  personality. 
"I  thought  you  were  a  stranger  here." 

"I  am,  but  Genevieve  Wilks  has  just  been 
telling  me  that  you  really  saw  the  spook." 

Gayne  laughed.  "When  I  came  up  here 
last  summer,  I  was  told  about  the  haunted 
farm,  and,  of  course,  I  was  interested  in  it  at 
once.  There  are  some  particularly  good  views 
from  there.  So,  naturally,  I  became  one  of 

58 


A  FRIENDLY  PACT 


the  ha'nts  myself  and  spent  a  lot  of  time 
with  them." 

"Oh,  but  tell  us  what  it  looked  like,"  per- 
sisted Veronica.  "Did  you  really  think  you 
saw  one?" 

"What  a  subject  for  this  time  of  a  clear, 
sunny  day,"  said  Gayne,  lightly.  "Wait 
until  the  thunder  rolls  some  stormy  night," 
and,  lifting  his  cap,  he  hurried  away  through 
the  field,  his  sketch-book  under  his  arm. 

Diana  looked  after  his  receding  form. 

"It  is  odd  how  little  like  an  artist  Mr. 
Gayne  looks,"  she  said. 

"You  mean  he  should  have  long  hair  and 
dreamy  eyes?"  asked  Philip. 

"I  think  it  is  the  eyes,"  replied  Diana 
thoughtfully.  "I  cannot  picture  his  looking 
with  concentration  and  persistence  at  any- 
thing." 

"Oh,  I  Ve  seen  him  make  a  pretty  good 
stab  at  it,"  said  Philip  dryly,  thinking  of  the 
manner  in  which  he  had  on  several  occasions 
seen  him  stare  at  Diana. 

At  this  point  the  dull  boy  found  his  tongue. 

"  I  would  n't  go  up  there, "  he  said  halt- 
ingly. 

"Up  where?"  asked  Mrs.  Lowell  encour- 
agingly. 

59 


THE  KEY  NOTE 


"Up  to  that  farm.  It 's  full  of  nettles  that 
sting,  and  then,  when  it  ys  dark,  ghosts. " 

The  group  exchanged  glances. 

"Who  told  you  that?"  asked  Philip. 

"Uncle  Nick." 

It  did  not  increase  the  general  admiration 
of  Mr.  Gayne  that  he  should  take  such 
means  for  securing  safety  from  his  nephew's 
companionship. 

Mrs.  Lowell  took  the  boy's  arm.  "I  want 
to  go  down  to  the  water,"  she  said.  "Will 
you  go  with  me?" 

"Are  you  afraid  to  go  alone?"  he  asked. 

"I  should  like  it  better  if  you  went  with 


me." 


He  allowed  himself  to  be  led  around  the 
house,  then  on  among  the  grassy  hummocks 
and  clump  of  bay  and  savin  and  countless 
blueberry  bushes. 

"Do  you  see  what  quantities  of  blue- 
berries we  are  going  to  have?"  asked  Mrs. 
Lowell. 

"Are  we?" 

''Yes.  These  are  berry  bushes.  Do  you 
like  blueberries?" 

"I  don't  know." 

Mrs.  Lowell  laughed  and  shook  the  arm 
she  was  still  holding.  "You  do  know,  Ber- 

60 


A  FRIENDLY  PACT 


tie,"  she  said.  "You  must  have  eaten  lots 
of  blueberries. "  Her  merry  eyes  held  his  dull 
ones  as  she  spoke.  "I  don't  like  to  hear 
you  say  you  don't  know,  all  the  time." 

"What  difference  does  it  make?"  he  re- 
turned. 

"All  the  difference  in  the  world.  The 
most  important  thing  in  life  is  for  us  to  know. 
There  are  such  quantities  of  beautiful  things 
for  us  to  know.  This  day,  for  instance.  We 
can  know  it  is  beautiful,  can't  we?" 

When  they  reached  the  stony  beach,  she 
released  his  arm  and  sat  down  among  the 
pebbles.  He  did  not  look  at  them  or  at  the 
sea;  but  at  her.  She  wore  a  blue  dress  and  her 
brown  hair  was  ruffling  in  the  wind. 

"Do  you  like  stones?'   she  asked. 

"I—  "he  began 

She  lifted  her  hand  and  laughed  again  into 
his  eyes.  "Careful  !"  she  said.  "Don't  say 
you  don't  know." 

The  boy's  look  altered  from  dullness  to 
perplexity.  "But  I  don't — "  he  began  slowly. 

"Then  find  out  right  now,"  she  said,  lift- 
ing a  hand  full  of  the  smooth  pebbles  while 
the  tide  seethed  and  hissed  near  them.  She 
held  out  her  hand  to  him. 

"Pick  out  the  prettiest,"  she  said,  and  he 
61 


THE  KEY  NOTE 


began  pulling  them  over  with  his  forefinger. 

"I  love  stones,"  she  went  on.  "See  how 
the  ocean  has  polished  them  for  us.  Years 
and  years  of  polishing  has  gone  to  these,  and 
yet  we  can  pick  them  up  on  a  bright  summer 
morning  and  have  them  for  our  own  if  we 
want  them. " 

"There  's  one  sort  of  green,"  said  Bertie. 
"Green.  That 's  like  me.  Uncle  Nick  says 
I  'm  green. " 

"Uncle  Nick  does  n't  know  everything," 
said  Mrs.  Lowell  quietly,  as  she  took  the 
pebble  he  had  chosen  and,  laying  her  hand- 
kerchief on  the  beach,  placed  the  green  peb- 
ble upon  it.  "Now,  see  if  we  can  find  some 
that  you  can  see  the  light  through.  There 
is  one  now.  See,  that  one  is  almost  trans- 
parent. It  is  translucent.  That  is  what  trans- 
lucent means.  Is  n't  it  a  pretty  word  —  and 
a  pretty  stone  ?  Hold  it  up  to  your  eye. " 

The  boy  obeyed,  a  slight  look  of  interest 
coming  into  his  face.  Mrs.  Lowell  studying 
him  realized  what  an  attractive  face  his 
might  be.  It  was  as  if  the  promising  bud  of  a 
flower  had  been  blighted  in  mid-opening. 

"Let  us  put  all  the  best  pebbles  on  my 
handkerchief  and  take  them  home  with  us. 
Have  you  a  father  and  mother,  Bertie?" 

62 


A  FRIENDLY  PACT 


"No." 

"Do  you  remember  them?" 

The  boy  hesitated  and  glanced  into  the 
kind  face  bent  toward  him.  Its  expression 
gave  the  lonely  lad  a  strange  sensation.  A 
lump  came  into  his  throat  and  moisture 
suddenly  gathered  in  his  eyes.  He  swallowed 
the  lump. 

"Uncle  Nick  doesn't  want  me  —  to  talk 
about  her,"  he  stammered. 

"Your  mother,  do  you  mean,  Bertie  ?" 

The  tender  tone  was  too  much  for  the  boy. 
He  had  to  swallow  faster  and  nodded.  In  a 
minute  two  drops  ran  down  his  cheeks.  He 
ignored  them  and  began  throwing  pebbles 
into  the  water. 

The  figure  that  he  made  in  his  outgrown 
trousers  and  faded  old  sweater,  trying  to 
control  himself,  moved  his  companion,  and 
the  sign  of  his  emotion  encouraged  her.  Per- 
haps he  was  not  so  stupid  as  he  seemed. 

"I  think  it  would  be  nice  to  make  a  col- 
lection of  stones  while  we  are  here, "  she  said. 
"  I  'm  sure  Miss  Burridge  will  let  us  have  a 
glass  jar.  See  this  one." 

Bertie  dashed  the  back  of  his  hand  across 
his  eyes  and  turned  to  look  at  the  small 
pebble  she  offered. 


THE  KEY  NOTE 


"Is  n't  that  a  little  beauty?'* 

«T  » 

"Careful!"  his  companion  smiled  as  she 
said  it  and  pretended  to  frown  at  him  in  such 
a  merry  way  that  the  hint  of  a  smile  appeared 
on  his  face. 

"Uncle  Nick  likes  to  have  me  say  I  don't 
know.  He  says  it 's  honest. " 

"Well,  no  two  people  could  be  more  different 
than  Uncle  Nick  and  me.  I  want  you  to  know, 
and  I  want  you  to  say  so,  because  it 's  what 
we  all  have  a  right  to.  It  is  what  God  wants 
of  us ;  and,  Bertie,  if  you  ever  feel  like  talking 
about  your  mother  to  me,  you  must  do  so." 

The  boy  glanced  up  at  her,  then  down  at 
the  pebbles  which  he  pulled  over  in  silence. 

"Where  do  you  and  your  uncle  live  ?" 

"In  Newark." 

"Do  you  go  to  school  there  ?" 

"No." 

"Where  do  you  go  to  school?" 

"Nowhere." 

"Where  did  you  learn  to  read  and  write 
then,  Bertie?" 

"In  school.  I  went  when  —  when  she  was 
here." 

"Your  mother?"      - 

"Yes." 

64 


A  FRIENDLY  PACT 


"And  have  you  brothers  and  sisters?" 

"No.  Just  Uncle  Nick." 

"Does  he  give  you  studies  to  learn  ?"  Mrs. 
Lowell's  catechism  was  given  in  such  gentle, 
interested  tones  that  the  answers  had  come 
easily  up  to  now. 

Now  the  boy  hesitated,  and  she  began  to 
expect  the  stereotyped  answer  which  he  had 
learned  was  most  pleasing,  and  the  easiest 
way  out  with  his  uncle. 

"I  —  "  he  began,  and  caught  her  look. 
"Sometimes,"  he  added.  "But  Uncle  Nick 
says  it  is  n't  any  use  —  and  I  don't  care 
anyway,  because  —  she  is  n't  here. " 

Again  Mrs.  Lowell  could  see  the  spasm  in 
his  throat  and  face.  It  passed  and  left  the 
usual  dull  listlessness  of  expression. 

"Your  mother  was  very  sweet,"  said  Mrs. 
Lowell  quietly,  and  some  acknowledgment 
lighted  his  eyes  as  he  suddenly  looked  up  at 
her.  "I  know  that  because  she  made  such 
a  deep  impression  on  the  little  boy  she  left. 
How  old  were  you,  Bertie,  in  that  hapuy 
time  when  she  was  here?" 

"I  —  it  was  Christmas,  and  there  have 
been  —  five  Christmases  since.  I  remember 
them  on  my  fingers,  and  one  hand  is  gone." 

Mrs.  Lowell  met  his  shifting  look  with  the 

65 


THE  KEY  NOTE 


steady,  kind  gaze  which  was  so  fraught  with 
sympathy  that  his  forlorn,  neglected  soul 
turned  towards  its  warmth  like  a  struggling 
flower  to  the  sun. 

"I  '11  tell  you  what  I  think  would  be  beau- 
tiful, Bertie,"  she  said.  "And  it  is  for  you  to 
do  everything  you  do  for  her,  just  as  if  she 
were  here,  or  as  if  you  were  going  to  see  her 
to-morrow.  Did  she  ever  talk  to  you  about 
God?" 

"Yes.  I  said  prayers  that  Christmas  — 
and  I  got  a  sled. " 

"Do  you  ever  say  prayers  now?" 

"  No.  It — it  does  n't  do  any  good  if  you  — 
if  you  live  with  Uncle  Nick.  He  —  he  won't 
let  God  give  you  —  anything. " 

"Let  me  tell  you  something  wonderful, 
Bertie.  Nobody  —  not  even  Uncle  Nick  — 
can  stand  between  you  and  God.  You  know 
the  way  your  mother  loved  you  ?  God 
loves  you  that  way,  too.  Like  a  Father  and 
Mother  both.  So,  whenever  you  think  of  your 
mother's  love,  think  of  God's  love,  too.  It  is 
just  as  real.  In  fact,  it  was  God,  you  know, 
who  made  her  love  you." 

The  boy  looked  up  at  this. 

"Yes.  So,  whenever  you  think  of  God, 
remember  that  'I  don't  know'  must  never 

66 


A  FRIENDLY  PACT 


come  into  your  thought.  You  do  know,  and 
you  can  know  better  every  day." 

"Uncle  Nick  won't  like  it  if  I  know  any- 
thing." 

"Dear  child!"  burst  from  Mrs.  Lowell  at 
this  unconscious  revelation  of  blight.  "We 
will  have  a  secret  from  Uncle  Nick.  I  am  so 
glad  you  have  told  me  about  your  dear  mother, 
and  now  you  are  going  to  start  doing  every- 
thing in  the  way  you  think  would  make  her 
happy  if  she  were  here.  I  am  sure  she  loved 
everything  beautiful.  She  loved  flowers  and 
birds  and  this  splendid  ocean  that  is  going  to 
catch  us  in  a  minute  if  we  don't  move  back. 
What  do  you  say  to  letting  it  catch  us! 
Supposing  we  take  off  our  shoes  and  stockings 
and  wade.  Does  n't  that  foam  look  tempting?" 

Color  rose  in  the  speaker's  cheeks  as  she 
finished,  and  the  vitality  in  her  voice  was 
infectious. 

"It's  — it'll  be  cold,"  said  the  boy. 

"Let  it.  Come  on,  it  will  be  fun." 

She  was  already  taking  off  her  shoes  and  he 
followed  suit.  It  gave  her  a  pang  to  see  the 
holes  in  his  faded  socks,  but  she  caught  up 
her  skirts  and  he  pulled  up  his  trousers  and 
shrinkingly  followed  her.  The  June  water 
was  still  reminiscent  of  ice,  and  she  squealed 

67 


THE  KEY  NOTE 


as  the  foam  curled  around  her  ankles,  and 
Bertie  hopped  up  and  down  until  color 
came  into  his  face,  too.  The  incoming  tide, 
noisier  and  noisier,  drove  them  farther  and 
farther  up  the  beach,  until  finally  they  sat 
down  together  on  a  rock  at  a  safe  distance 
fro.m  the  water,  and  the  sunlight  fell  hotly  on 
their  glistening  feet. 

"That  was  fun!"  said  Mrs.  Lowell,  laugh- 
ing and  breathing  fast.  "Do  you  know  how 
to  swim,  Bertie  ?" 

"I  — no,  I  don't." 

"That  would  be  a  nice  thing  to  learn  while 
you  are  here.  You  learn  and  then  teach  me." 

"Me?  Teach  you?" 

"Of  course.  Why  not?  There  's  a  cove  in 
the  island  where  they  all  swim." 

Bertie  looked  off  on  the  billows.  "Would 
my  mother  like  that?"  he  asked. 

"I  'm  sure  she  would,  and  she  would  like 
the  collection  of  stones  we  are  going  to  make, 
and  she  would  like  you  to  help  Miss  Bur- 
ridge  by  weeding  the  garden  that  they  have 
started.  There  are  so  many  delightful  things 
to  do  in  the  world,  and  you  are  going  to  do 
them  all  —  for  her. " 

"All  for  her,"  echoed  Bertie.  "And  not 
tell  Uncle  Nick,"  he  added. 

68 


A  FRIENDLY  PACT 


"No.  You  and  I  will  keep  the  secret." 
Mrs.  Lowell  looked  at  him  with  a  smile, 
and  the  neglected  boy,  his  dull  wits  stimu- 
lated by  this  amazing  experience  of  comrade- 
ship, smiled  back  at  her,  the  smile  of  the  little 
child  who  in  that  far-away  happy  Christmas 
had  received  a  sled. 


CHAPTER  IV 

BIOGRAPHY 

"WELL,  good-bye,  Miss  Priscilla, "  said  Philip, 
coming  into  the  kitchen  a  few  mornings  after- 
ward. "This  landlubber  life  won't  do  for  me 
any  longer. " 

Small  Genevieve  was  at  the  sink  washing 
dishes  and  Veronica  was  drying  them. 

Miss  Burridge  slid  her  last  loaf  of  bread 
into  the  oven  and  then  stood  up  and  faced 
him. 

"Philip  Barrison,"  she  said  emphatically, 
"you  have  been  a  blessing  for  these  weeks.  I 
hate  to  see  you  go.  Now,  how  much  do  I 
owe  you  for  all  the  good  things  you  Ve  done 
forme?" 

Philip  laughed  and,  throwing  his  arms 
around  her,  gave  her  a  hearty  smack  on  the 
cheek. 

"What  do  I  owe  you  for  popovers  and  corn 
fritters  ?"  he  rejoined.  "Just  don't  let  Veron- 
ica chew  gum,  nor  let  Genevieve  flirt  with 
Marley  Hughes  and  we  '11  call  it  square. " 

Genevieve  turned  up  her  little  nose  and 
giggled,  and  Veronica  looked  scornful. 

"Now,  don't  you  tell  me  that  Puppa  liked 


BIOGRAPHY 

it, "  he  continued  to  her.  "  Besides,  anybody 
that  lives  with  your  Aunt  Pris  has  so  many 
nicer  things  to  chew  there  is  no  excuse  Oh, 
Miss  Priscilla,  how  I  hate  to  say  adieu  to  the 
waffles!" 

"Well,  you  must  come  real  often,  Phil.  I 
heard  you  was  goin'  to  give  us  a  concert  at 
the  hall  sometime  this  summer.  Is  that  so  ?  I 
do  hope  you  will. " 

"  I  should  n't  wonder.  My  accompanist  is 
coming  to-day  and  we  shall  do  a  little  work 
and  a  lot  of  fishing. " 

"  Is  he  a  young  feller  ?  You  must  bring  him 
up  to  play  croquet  with  the  girls." 

"Well,  I  don't  know  whether  he  has  any 
experience  as  an  Alpine  climber  or  not. " 

"Why,  I  don't  think  it's  such  an  awful  bad 
ground.  Do  you,  Veronica  ?" 

"Not  if  he's  real  nice  and  hasn't  any 
whiskers,"  replied  the  girl.  "Heaven  knows 
he  '11  be  better  than  nothing.  Such  a  place  as 
this  and  not  a  beau !  It 's  a  crime. " 

"  How  about  me  ?"  inquired  Philip  mod- 
estly. 

Veronica  lifted  her  upper  lip  disdainfully. 
"Oh,  you,  with  your  lectures  and  your  god- 
desses !    What  earthly  good  are  you  ? " 
' "  Cr-rushed ! "  exclaimed  Philip. 


THE  KEY  NOTE 


"Talked  to  Mrs.  Lowell  all  last  evening 
on  the  piazza  in  that  lovely  moonlight.  The 
idea  of  wasting  it  on  a  Mrs.  I  suppose  there  's 
a  Mr.  to  her. " 

"Yes,  and  he 's  coming  before  the  summer 
is  over.  The  worst  of  it  is  she  seems  to  like 
him." 

"Children,  children,"  said  Miss  Burridge, 
and  she  winked  toward  the  back  of  Gene- 
vieve's  head.  Well  she  knew  the  alertness  of 
the  ears  that  were  holding  back  those  tight 
braids  of  hair. 

"Yes,  my  accompanist,  Barney,  is  a  broth 
of  a  boy,  but  I  shall  tell  him,  Veronica,  that  ten 
o'clock  is  the  limit,  the  very  extreme  limit. " 

The  girl  flushed  and  laughed.  "You  mind 
your  business  now,  Mr.  Barrison,  and  I  '11  at- 
tend to  mine.  I  'm  perfectly  capable  of  it. " 

"Very  well.  I  '11  simply  keep  Puppa's  ad- 
dress on  my  desk,  and  I  won't  use  it  unless  I 
really  have  to, "  said  Phil,  in  a  conscientious 
tone  which  nearly  caused  Veronica  to  throw  a 
cup  at  him. 

"Go  along  now  if  you  must,  Philip,"  said 
Miss  Priscilla.  "And  I  do  thank  you,  dear 
boy.  We  shall  miss  you  every  minute.  Give 
my  love  to  your  grandmother.  I  wish  she 
could  get  up  as  far  as  this.  You  tell  her  so. " 

72 


BIOGRAPHY 

"All  right,  I  will.  Do  you  know  where  Miss 
Wilbur  is?" 

"Aha!"  said  Veronica  softly. 

"  I  don't  want  to  go  without  saying  good- 
bye to  her. " 

"I  should  hope  not,"  jeered  Veronica.  "I 
suppose  you  won't  see  her  again  all  summer. " 

"Oh,  yes,  I  shall,  unless  Barney  Kelly  cuts 
me  out." 

"  Sure,  it 's  Oirish  he  is,  thin  ? " 

"  Faith,  and  he  is,  and  a  bit  chipped  off  the 
original  blarney  stone  at  that.  Trust  him 
not,  Veronica." 

"I  only  hope  I  '11  get  the  chance,  but  if 
you  're  going  to  set  him  on  the  goddess, 
what  sort  of  a  look-in  will  I  have  ?  I  've  got 
five  on  my  nose  already. " 

"Five  what,  woman?" 

"  Freckles.  Can't  you  see  them  from  there  ? 
It  will  be  fulsome  flattery  if  you  say  you 
can't." 

Philip  squinted  up  his  eyes  and  came  nearer 
to  examine. 

"You  remember  what  I  said.  Tell  Barney 
they  're  beauty  spots  —  '  golden  kisses  of  the 


sun.' 


"Oh,  ain't  that  pretty ! "  shouted Genevieve. 
I  'm  speckled  with  'em  jest  like  a  turkey 

73 


THE  KEY  NOTE 


egg,  but  I  don't  mind  'em  the  way  Veronica 
does.  I  Ve  got  some  powder  at  home  and  I 
powder  over  'em. " 

"At  your  age,  Genevieve!"  exclaimed 
Philip  sternly.  "What  shall  I  do  with  the 
extravagance  and  artificiality  of  this  genera- 
tion! Don't  you  know,  Genevieve,  that  the 
money  you  spend  for  powder  should  go  into 
the  missionary  box  ?  You  poor,  lost,  little 
soul!" 

Genevieve  giggled  delightedly,  and  Miss 
Burridge,  at  the  window,  exclaimed: 

"There's  Miss  Wilbur  now,  Phil,  looking 
at  the  garden  bed." 

"If  I  were  she,"  said  Veronica,  "I  would  n't 
have  a  word  to  say  to  you  after  the  way  you 
wasted  last  evening." 

"If  only  she  thought  so,  too!"  groaned 
Philip.  "  But  I  'm  not  in  it  with  her  astron- 
omy map  for  June.  She  is  a  hundred  times 
more  interested  to  know  where  Jupiter  and 
Venus  are  than  where  I  am  —  natural,  I  sup- 
pose —  all  in  the  family. "  He  threw  open  the 
kitchen  door  and,  standing  on  the  step, 
threw  kisses  toward  the  group  within. 

"Good-bye,  summer!"  he  sang.  "Good- 
bye, good-bye. " 

The  beauty  of  his  voice  had  its  usual  effect 


BIOGRAPHY 

on  Diana,  who  stood  by  the  strip  of  green, 
growing  things,  looking  in  his  direction,  her 
lips  slightly  parted  over  her  pretty  teeth. 

"You  see  I'm  good-bye-ing,"  he  said, 
approaching  her. 

"Are  you  leaving  us  ?"  she  returned,  allow- 
ing her  clasped  hands  to  fall  apart.  "See  how 
well  the  sweet  peas  are  doing. " 

"Yes,  I  'm  leaving  you  all  in  good  shape. 
Do  you  think  you  can  go  on  behaving  your- 
selves without  my  watchful  guardianship  and 
Christian  example?" 

"I  think  we  shall  miss  you.  Mr.  Gayne  is 
not  a  fair  exchange. " 

"Thank  you.  Mrs.  Lowell  was  talking  to 
me  about  that  outfit  last  evening.  She  is 
quite  stirred  up  about  the  boy." 

"Yes,"  rejoined  Diana.  "I  think  she  is  a 
wonderful  woman.  She  has  taken  him  down 
to  the  beach  with  her  again  this  morning.  She 
believes  that  Mr.  Gayne  is  his  nephew's  en- 
emy rather  than  his  guardian.  She  believes 
he  has  some  reason  for  desiring  to  blight  any 
buddings  of  intelligence  in  the  boy,  and  uses 
an  outrageous  method  of  suppression  over  him 
all  the  time.  It  would  be  so  much  easier  to 
let  it  go,  and  most  of  us  would,  I  Jm  sure, 
rather  than  spend  vacation  hours  in  such 

75 


THE  KEY  NOTE 


insipid  company,  or  have  any  dealings  with 
that  —  that  impossible  uncle;  but  Mrs.  Lowell 
will  not  relinquish  her  efforts. " 

"Yes,  she  is  a  brilliant,  fearless  sort  of 
woman,"  said  Philip.  "I  should  n't  wonder  if 
she  gave  Gayne  a  disagreeable  quarter  of  an 
hour  before  she  gets  through  with  him. " 

"One  has  to  exercise  care,  however,"  re- 
turned Diana,  "  lest  the  man  become  angered 
and  visit  his  ill-humor  on  the  boy.  I  am  often 
obliged  to  constrain  myself  to  civility  when  I 
yearn  to  hurl  —  "  she  hesitated. 

"Plates  ?  Oh,  do  say  you  long  to  throw  a 
plate  at  him!" 

Diana  gave  her  remote  moonbeam  smile. 

"I  must  admit  that  'invective*  was  in  my 
mind.  A  rather  strong  word  for  girls  to  use. " 

"A  splendid  word.  A  good  long  one,  too. 
You  might  try  hurling  polysyllables  at  him 
some  day  and  see  him  blink." 

Diana  shook  her  head.  "That  sort  of  man 
is  a  pachyderm.  He  would  never  flinch  at 
verbal  missiles.  Since  you  must  go,  I  wish 
some  other  agreeable  man  would  join  our 
group  and  converse  with  him  at  table. " 

Philip  smiled.  "Surely  you  have  noticed 
that  Miss  Emerson  is  not  averse  to  assuming 
all  responsibility?" 

76 


BIOGRAPHY 

"Mr.  Barrison, "  said  Diana  gravely,  "I 
hope  when  I  am  —  am  elderly  and  unmarried, 
that  I  shall  not  seek  to  attract  men. " 

"Miss  Wilbur,"  returned  Philip,  with  a 
solemnity  fitting  hers,  and  regarding  the  sym- 
metry and  grace  of  her  lovely  head,  "don't 
spend  any  time  worrying  about  that;  for 
some  inner  voice  assures  me  that  you  will 
never  be  elderly  and  unmarried. " 

"The  future  is  on  the  knees  of  the  gods," 
she  returned  serenely. 

"Then  I  don't  need  to  lose  any  sleep  on 
account  of  your  posing  for  one  of  Mr.  Gayne's 
wonderful  sketches  ? " 

Diana  brought  the  brown  velvet  of  her 
eyes  to  bear  fully  upon  him.  It  even  seemed 
hopeful  that  a  spark  would  glow  in  them. 

"I  loathe  the  man,"  she  said  slowly. 

"Forgive  me,  divine  one.  Well,  I  must 
go  now.  Why  won't  you  take  me  home  ?  I 
should  like  you  to  meet  my  grandmother, 
and  think  of  the  pitfalls  and  mantraps  of  the 
island  road  if  I  risk  myself  alone:  Bill  Lind- 
say's Ford!  Marley  Hughes's  bicycle!  Lou 
BuelFs  gray  mare  taking  him  to  mend  some- 
body's broken  pipe!  Matt  Blake's  express 
wagon!  Come  and  keep  my  courage  up." 

"You  have  a  grandmother  on  this  island  ?" 

77 


THE  KEY  NOTE 


"  I  '11  prove  it  if  you  '11  come  with  me. " 

Diana  smiled  and  moved  along  beside  him. 
"It  doesn't  seem  a  real,  mundane,  earthly 
place  to  me  yet, "  she  said.  "  It  must  be  won- 
derful to  have  a  solid  pied-d-terre  here.  They 
tell  me  there  are  many  summer  cottages,  but 
they  are  far  from  our  Inn  and  I  have  n't  realized 
them  yet.  I  am  hoping  my  parents  will  con- 
sent to  purchasing  some  ground  here  for  me." 

"Where  do  you  usually  go  in  summer?" 

"Our  cottage  is  at  Newport,  but  I  like  bet- 
ter Pittsfield,  where  we  go  in  the  autumn. " 

Philip  looked  around  at  her  as  she  moved 
along  through  the  field  beside  him.  "Is  your 
middle  name  Biddle?"  he  asked. 

"No,  I  have  no  middle  name." 

"I  thought  in  Philadelphia  only  the  de- 
scendants of  the  Biddies  had  cottages  at  New- 
port and  Pittsfield. " 

Diana  smiled.  "I  know  that  is  a  stock  bit 
of  humor.  What  was  that  about  an  English- 
man who  said  he  had  seen  Niagara  Falls  and 
almost  every  other  wonder  of  America  except 
a  Biddle  ?  He  had  not  yet  seen  one. " 

"When  do  you  laugh,  Miss  Wilbur?" 
asked  Philip  suddenly. 

"Why,  whenever  anything  amuses  me,  of 


course. >: 


BIOGRAPHY 

"Yet  you  like  the  island,  although  it  has 
never  amused  you  yet.  I  have  lived  in  the 
house  with  you  for  two  weeks  and  I  have  n't 
heard  you  laugh." 

Diana  looked  up  at  him  and  laughed  softly. 
"How  amusing!"  she  said. 

He  nodded.  "  It 's  very  good-looking,  very. 
Do  that  again  sometime.  How  did  you  happen 
to  run  away  from  family  this  season?" 

"I  was  tired  and  almost  ill,  and  some  people 
at  home  had  been  here  and  told  me  about  it. 
So  I  came,  really  incontinently.  I  did  not 
wait  to  perfect  arrangements,  and  when  I 
arrived  in  a  severe  rainstorm  one  evening,  I 
found  great  kindness  at  the  house  my  friends 
had  told  me  of,  but  no  clean  towels.  They 
were  going  to  have  a  supply  later,  but  mean- 
while I  lost  my  heart  to  the  view  from  our  Inn 
piazza  and  Miss  Burridge  found  me  there  one 
day  and  took  me  in  for  better  or  for  worse. 
That  explains  me.  Now,  what  explains  your 
having  a  grandmother  here  ? " 

"Her  daughter  marrying  my  father,  I  im- 
agine. My  grandfather  was  a  sea-captain, 
Cap'n  Steve  Dorking.  He  had  given  up  the 
sea  by  the  time  I  came  along." 

"Here  ?  Were  you  born  here  ?" 

"Yes." 

79 


"That  explains  the  maritime  tints  in  your 
eyes.  Even  when  they  laugh  the  sparkle  is 
like  the  sun  on  the  water.  Continue,  please. " 

"Well,  my  father,  who  came  here  to  fish, 
met  my  mother,  fell  in  love,  married  her, 
and  took  her  away.  He  was  very  clever  at 
everything  except  making  money,  it  seems, 
so  my  mother  came  home  within  a  year  to 
welcome  me  on  to  the  planet.  My  grandfa- 
ther had  a  small  farm,  and  I  was  his  shadow 
and  one  of  his  '  hands '  until  I  was  eight  years 
old." 

"Was  it  a  happy  life?" 

"It  was.  I  remember  especially  the  smell 
of  Grammy's  buttery,  sweet-smelling  cook- 
ies, and  gingerbread,  and  apple  pies  with 
cinnamon.  It  smells  the  same  way  now.  Do 
you  wonder  I  like  to  come  back  ? " 

"You  stimulate  my  appetite,"  said  Diana. 

"  Oh,  she  '11  give  you  some.  There  were 
many  jolly  things  in  those  days  to  brighten 
the  life  of  a  country  boy.  The  way  the  sofr 
grass  felt  to  bare  feet  in  the  spring,  and  in  the 
frosty  autumn  mornings  when  we  went  to  the 
yard  to  milk  and  would  scare  up  the  cows  so 
those  same  bare  feet  could  stand  in  the  warm 
place  where  the  cows  had  lain.  Then  came 
winter  and  snowdrifts  —  making  snow  huts 

80 


BIOGRAPHY 

and  coasting  down  the  hills.  Sliding  and  skat- 
ing on  the  ice-filled  hollows.  It  was  all  great. 
I'm  glad  I  had  it." 

"You  test  my  credulity,  Mr.  Barrison, 
when  you  speak  of  ice  and  snow  in  this  poetic 
home  of  summer  breezes." 

He  looked  down  at  her.  "We  will  have  a 
winter  house-party  at  Grammy's  sometime 
and  convince  you." 

"So  at  eight  years  of  age  you  went  out 
into  the  world  ? " 

"Yes,  at  my  dear  mother's  apron  strings. 
My  father  had  spent  some  time  with  us  every 
year  and  at  last  secured  a  living  salary  and 
took  us  to  town.  The  first  thing  I  did  in  the 
glitter  of  the  blinking  lamp-posts  was  to  fall 
in  love.  I  prayed  every  night  for  a  long  time 
that  I  might  marry  that  girl.  She  had  long 
curls  and  I  reached  just  to  her  ear.  I  received 
her  wedding  cards  a  year  or  so  ago.  I  was  al- 
ways praying  for  something,  but  only  one  of 
my  prayers  has  ever  been  answered.  I  was 
always  very  devout  in  a  thunderstorm,  and  I 
prayed  that  I  might  not  be  struck  by  lightning 
and  I  never  have  been  yet. " 

"When  was  your  wonderful  voice  dis- 
covered ? " 

"Look  here, Miss  Wilbur,  you  are  tempting 
81 


THE  KEY  NOTE 


me  to  a  whole  biography,  and  it  is  nrt  inter- 
esting. " 

"Yes,  I  am  interested  in  —  in  your  mother." 

"My  poor  mother,"  said  Philip,  in  a  dif- 
ferent tone.  "When  I  was  twelve  years  old 
my  father  was  taken  ill  and  soon  left  us.  My 
mother  had  to  struggle  and  I  had  to  stop 
school  and  go  to  wt>rk.  The  first  job  I  got 
was  lathing  a  house.  I  walked  seven  miles 
into  the  country  and  put  the  laths  on  that 
house.  I  worked  hard  for  a  whole  week  and 
received  twelve  dollars  and  seventy-five 
cents.  It  was  a  ten-dollar  gold  piece,  two 
silver  dollars,  fifty  cents,  and  a  quarter." 

Diana  lifted  sympathetic  eyes. 

"  I  bought  a  suit  of  clothes  and  gave  up  the 
gold  piece.  The  perfect  lady  clerk  failed  to 
give  me  credit  for  it  and  six  months  afterward 
the  store  sent  the  bill  to  my  mother.  I  put 
up  a  heated  argument,  you  may  be  sure,  and 
before  the  matter  was  settled,  the  perfect 
lady  clerk  skipped  with  another  woman's 
husband.  So  the  powers  inclined  to  believe 
me  rather  than  her." 

"Poor  little  boy,"  put  in  Diana.  "But 
your  music  ?" 

"Yes.  Well,  our  minister's  wife  took  an 
interest  in  me  and  gave  me  lessons  on  the  or- 

82 


BIOGRAPHY 

gan.  I  never  would  practice,  though.  I  would 
pick  out  hymns  with  one  linger  while  I  stood 
on  one  foot  and  pumped  the  pedal  with  the 
other.  It  was  results  I  was  after;  but  the 
cornet  allured  me,  and  I  learned  to  play  that 
well  enough  to  join  the  Sunday-School  or- 
chestra. 

"A  cousin  of  my  mother's  came  to  our 
rescue  sufficiently  to  let  me  go  to  school,  and 
in  all  my  spare  time  I  did  odd  jobs,  some  of 
them  pretty  strenuous;  but  I  was  a  strong 
youngster,  and  evidently  bore  a  charmed 
life,  for  I  challenged  fate  on  trains,  on  top 
of  buildings,  and  in  engine  rooms.  But  I  '11 
spare  you  the  harrowing  details.  At  the  spring 
commencement  of  the  high  school,  I  was  in- 
vited to  sing  a  solo.  I  warbled  good  old  '  Loch 
Lomond '  and  forgot  the  words  and  was  mor- 
tified almost  to  death,  but  the  audience  was 
enthusiastic,  I  have  always  believed  out  of 
pity." 

"No   no,"  breathed  Diana. 

"Well,  at  any  rate,  they  insisted  on  an  en- 
core, and  I  was  so  braced  up  by  the  applause 
and  so  furious  at  myself  that  I  gave  them 
'The  Owl  and  the  Pussy  Cat.'" 

"Oh." 

"  I  see  you  don't  know  it.  Well,  next  day  I 

83 


THE  KEY  NOTE 


met  a  lady  on  the  street  who  was  very  musi- 
cal, it  seemed,  and  she  invited  me  to  come 
to  her  house  and  talk  over  studying  music. 
She  said  I  had  a  great  responsibility.  Oh,  you 
don't  want  to  hear  all  this  !" 

"I  do,  I  do." 

"My  mother  passed  away  soon  afterward, 
and  the  musical  friend  in  need  —  good  friend 
she  was,  and  is  — told  me  of  a  town  a  hundred 
miles  away  where  there  were  vacancies  she 
knew  of  in  choir  positions.  She  would  give  me 
a  letter  of  introduction  and  she  believed  I 
could  qualify  for  one  of  them.  I  did  n't  tell 
her  the  slimness  of  my  cash  after  my  dear 
mother's  funeral  expenses  were  paid,  and  she 
did  n't  know.  So  I  traveled  that  hundred 
miles  on  a  freight  train.  When  I  first  boarded 
it,  I  crawled  into  the  fire-box  of  a  new  engine 
that  was  being  transported  over  that  line.  It 
grew  very  cold  before  we  had  gone  far,  and  I 
crawled  out  and  climbed  over  the  coal  tender 
and  opened  the  hole  where  they  put  the  water 
in.  I  climbed  down  into  that  empty  place  and 
lighted  a  match  only  to  find  that  there  were 
about  twenty  bums  there  ahead  of  me.  I 
did  n't  stay  there  long,  for  I  was  good  and 
plenty  afraid;  some  of  them  looked  desperate. 
I  climbed  out  again  and  went  along  the  train 

84 


BIOGRAPHY 

till  I  came  to  a  flat-car  loaded  with  a  new 
threshing  machine.  I  saw  a  brakeman  coming 
along  with  a  lantern,  and  I  knew  if  he  saw  me 
he  'd  put  me  off.  So  I  climbed  into  the  back 
of  the  threshing  machine  and  down  into  its 
very  depths,  and  after  a  while,  when  I  had  be- 
come chilled  to  the  marrow,  the  train  came  to 
a  halt.  I  crawled  out  and  down  to  the  ground 
and  ran  around  to  get  warm.  They  were 
doing  some  switching  and  I  saw  they  added 
two  cars  to  the  train.  One  had  stock  in  one 
end  and  hay  and  grain  in  the  other.  They  had 
to  leave  the  door  open  to  let  in  air  for  the 
stock,  and  up  I  climbed  and  hid  under  the 
straw  and  slept  soundly  the  rest  of  the  jour- 
ney. Oh,  I  was  dirty  when  I  arrived!  But  my 
precious  letter  was  safe  in  an  inside  pocket, 
and  with  the  contents  of  the  little  bundle  I 
had,  and  the  expenditure  of  part  of  my  small 
stock  of  money,  I  made  myself  decent  and 
presented  my  letter  of  introduction.  The  or- 
ganist of  one  of  the  churches  tried  me  out.  He 
liked  my  voice  so  much  that  he  engaged  me 
and  was  even  interested  enough  to  let  me 
live  at  his  house;  but  three  dollars  a  Sunday 
was  the  salary  and  the  voice  lessons  I  engaged 
would  be  four  dollars  a  week,  so,  of  course,  I 
had  to  go  to  work  at  once,  and  I  got  a  job  in  a 

85 


THE  KEY  NOTE 


big  sash  and  door  factory  where  I  worked  like 
a  horse  ten  hours  a  day." 

"Why,  Mr.  Barrison, "  sighed  Diana,  "you 
are  a  hero." 

Philip  laughed.  "I  had  no  leisure  to  think 
about  that.  Times  grew  very  slack  and  there 
began  to  be  great  danger  that  I  would  lose 
my  job  in  the  factory.  They  said  they  would 
have  to  lay  me  off  unless  I  would  whitewash 
an  old  building  they  had  bought  to  store 
lumber.  So  I  was  given  a  brush  and  a  barrel 
of  lime-water  and  told  to  go  at  it.  If  I  lost 
my  job,  I  would  n't  be  able  to  live.  So  I 
wrapped  my  feet  in  sacks  to  try  to  keep 
warm  —  it  was  late  November  —  and  went 
at  it:  and  there  were  girls,  Miss  Wilbur, 
girls!  And  I  could  n't  put  it  over  them  after 
Tom  Sawyer's  fashion.  Well,  I  had  sung 
there  just  thirteen  Sundays  when  the  blow 
fell.  The  committee  told  me  very  kindly 
that  they  wanted  to  try  another  tenor.  I 
went  home  from  that  talk  with  a  heart 
heavy  as  lead.  I  could  not  sleep,  and  near 
midnight  I  began  to  cry.  Yes,  I  did  cry.  I 
was  twenty-one  and  I  had  voted,  but  I  was 
the  most  broken-hearted  boy  in  the  State.  I 
must  have  cried  for  two  or  three  hours,  pity- 
ing myself  to  the  utmost,  up  three  flights  of 

86 


BIOGRAPHY 

stairs  in  that  little  attic  room,  with  the  rain 
pouring  on  the  roof  over  my  head,  when  all 
at  once  I  jumped  out  of  bed  as  dry-eyed  as 
if  I  'd  never  shed  a  tear  and,  lifting  my  right 
hand  as  high  as  possible,  I  made  a  vow.  I 
said  —  So  help  me,  God,  I  will  become  a 
singer  if  I  have  to  walk  over  everybody  in  the 
attempt.  I  will  learn  to  sing,  and  these  mutts 
will  listen  to  me  and  pay  to  hear  me,  too. 
Then  I  jumped  back  into  bed  and  fell  asleep 
instantly." 

"Splendid!"  said  Diana.  "And  how  did 
you  keep  the  vow?" 

"Well,  next  morning  I  began  to  figure 
what  I  must  do.  I  knew  I  had  n't  enough 
education.  I  remembered  that  three  years  be- 
fore I  had  won  a  scholarship  for  twenty  weeks' 
free  tuition  in  a  business  college  in  Portland, 
and  I  decided  that  I  would  need  fifty  dollars. 
The  same  cousin  who  had  helped  me  before 
to  go  to  school,  came  across.  I  quit  my  job, 
paid  my  bills,  and  left  for  Portland,  getting 
there  at  Christmas.  I  sang  at  the  Christmas- 
tree  exercises  in  my  home  church.  I  went  to 
school  as  I  planned,  took  care  of  the  furnace 
for  the  rent  of  my  room,  took  care  of  three 
horses,  got  the  janitorship  of  a  church  —  " 

Diana  looked  up  with  a  sudden  smile.  "And 

87 


THE  KEY  NOTE 


forced  up  the  thermometer  when  you  over- 
slept." 

Philip  burst  into  a  hearty  laugh.  "Did 
Miss  Burridge  give  me  away?  I  tell  you  I 
saved  that  church  lots  of  coal  that  winter." 

"Oh,  continue.  I  did  not  mean  to  interrupt 
you,  for  now  you  are  coming  to  the  climax. " 

"Nothing  very  wonderful,  Miss  Wilbur, 
but  I  found  I  had  that  to  give  that  people 
were  willing  to  pay  for,  and  I  began  going 
about  in  country  places  giving  recitals,  mixing 
humorous  recitations  in  with  the  groups  of 
songs,  playing  my  own  accompaniments  and 
sometimes  having  to  shovel  a  path  through  the 
snow  to  the  town  hall  before  my  audience 
could  come  in.  I  wonder  if  Caruso  ever  had 
to  shovel  snow  away  from  the  Metropolitan 
Opera  House  before  his  friends  could  get  in 
to  hear  him!  After  that  I  worked  my  way 
through  two  years  at  college,  studying  with 
a  good  voice  teacher.  Then  came  the  war.  I 
got  through  with  little  more  than  a  scratch 
and  was  in  one  of  the  first  regiments  to  be 
sent  home  after  the  armistice  was  signed.  The 
lady  who  first  discovered  my  voice  had  in- 
fluential musical  friends  in  New  York.  She 
sent  me  to  them,  and,  to  make  a  long  story  a 
little  shorter,  last  winter  I  was  under  an  ex- 

88 


BIOGRAPHY 

cellent  management,  obtained  a  church  po- 
sition, and  have  sung  at  a  good  many  recit- 
als. The  coming  winter  looks  hopeful. "  Philip 
put  his  hand  on  his  heart  and  bowed. 
"Thanking  you  for  your  kind  attention  — 
here  we  are  at  Grammy's." 


CHAPTER  V 

A  FIRELIGHT  INTERVIEW 

THEIR  path  had  led  away  from  the  main 
road  across  a  field  toward  a  buff-colored 
house  set  on  a  rise  of  ground  like  a  billow  in 
a  green  sea.  Where  the  hill  descended  beyond, 
there  grew  a  flourishing  apple  orchard. 

"Since  my  grandfather's  death,  the  little 
farm  is  overgrown, "  said  Philip.  "My  grand- 
mother gets  a  neighbor  to  cut  the  hay  and 
milk  her  cow,  and  so  leaves  the  cares  of  the 
world  behind  her." 

A  climbing  rosebush  nearly  covered  one 
side  of  the  cottage,  and  old-fashioned  per- 
ennials clung  about  its  base.  Nothing  was 
yet  in  bloom;  but  soon  the  daisies  in  the 
field  would  lie  in  white  drifts  and  the  wild 
roses,  large  and  of  a  deep  pink,  would  soften 
the  ledges  of  rock  cropping  out  everywhere 
in  the  sweet-smelling  fields. 

Philip  opened  the  door  and  ushered  his 
companion  into  a  small  hallway  covered  with 
oilcloth,  then  into  a  sunny  living-room,  shin- 
ing clean,  with  a  floor  varnished  in  yellow  and 
strewn  with  rag  rugs.  An  old  lady,  seated  in 
one  of  the  comfortable  rocking-chairs,  rose 

90 


A  FIRELIGHT  INTERVIEW 

to  meet  them.  Her  face,  the  visitor  thought, 
was  .one  of  the  sweetest  she  had  ever  seen. 

"What  a  pretty  girl  she  must  have  been!" 
she  reflected. 

Around  her  neck  the  old  lady  wore  a  string 
of  gold  beads,  and  the  thick  gray  hair  grow- 
ing becomingly  around  her  low  forehead  was 
carried  back  and  confined  in  a  black  net.  The 
simple  charm  of  her  welcome  to  the  young 
girl  was  the  perfection  of  good  manners  and 
her  voice  was  low  and  pleasant. 

"I  'm  glad  you  Ve  brought  my  boy  back, 
Miss  Wilbur,  I've  been  missing  him." 

"That 's  right,  Grammy.  Give  me  a  good 
character,"  said  Philip  hugging  her  and 
kissing  her  cheek.  "I  must  have  waffles, 
though.  I  'm  spoiled." 

Here  a  woman  appeared  at  the  door  of  the 
passageway  that  led  to  the  kitchen.  She  was 
very  wrinkled  and  care-worn  in  appearance, 
yet  sprightly  in  her  movements  and  manner. 
Many  of  her  teeth  were  missing  and  her  thin 
hair  was  strained  back  out  of  the  way.  She 
wore  a  large  checked  apron  over  her  calico 
dress. 

"Hello,  there,  Aunt  Maria,"  said  Philip. 
"This  is  Miss  Wilbur,  one  of  the  guests  at 
Miss  Burridge's." 


THE  KEY  NOTE 


"Happy  to  meet  you,"  said  Aunt  Maria,, 
but  casually,  in  the  manner  of  one  who  has 
but  slight  time  for  trivial  things  like  social 
amenities.  Then  she  fixed  Philip  with  a  se- 
vere stare.  "  Is  this  the  day  you  was  expectin' 
the  New  York  man?" 

"It  is,  Aunt  Maria.  Don't  tell  me  you 
were  n't  sure  and  have  n't  plenty  on  hand  for 
two  man-sized  appetites." 

"Well,  I  thought 't  was.  I  guess  I  can  feed 
you. "  Aunt  Maria's  severity  lapsed  in  a  semi- 
toothless  smile.  "How 's  Priscilla  Burridge 
gettin'  along?" 

"Famously,"  replied  Philip.  "She  's  given 
me  waffles  every  morning." 

"H'm!"  grunted  Aunt  Maria.  "I  guess 
I  can  cook  anything  Priscilla  Burridge  can, 
give  me  the  ingregiencies." 

"The  principal  ingredient  is  a  waffle  iron. 
I  '11  send  for  one  for  you." 

Diana  had  meanwhile  been  placed  in  a  seat 
near  her  hostess,  where  she  faced  the  line  of 
cheerful  red  geraniums  on  the  window-sill. 

"Your  first  visit  to  the  island,  Miss  Wil- 
bur?" asked  the  old  lady. 

"Yes,  Mrs.  Dorking;  bul^  not  the  last,  I 
assure  you." 

"You  like  it,  then?" 
92 


A  FIRELIGHT  INTERVIEW 

"I  think  it  is  a  fairy-tale  place." 

"Miss  Wilbur  has  been  accustomed  to  a 
summer  home  where  the  hand  of  man  has 
been  very  busy  and  the  foot  of  man  has  trodden 
out  nearly  all  of  Nature's  earmarks.  She  finds 
she  likes  the  raw  material  better, "  said  Philip, 
leaning  against  the  mantelpiece  where  odd 
shells  and  quaint  China  objects,  half-dog,  half- 
dragon,  stood  as  memorials  to  Captain  Steve 
Dorking's  cruises.  The  swords  of  two  sword- 
fishes,  elaborately  carved,  leaned  near  him. 

"The  island  's  filling  up, "  said  the  old  lady. 
"A  lot  of  the  summer  people  came  yesterday 
and  from  now  on  they  '11  flock  in. " 

"Are  you  glad  to  see  them  come?"  asked 
Diana. 

"Yes,"  returned  Mrs.  Dorking,  a  rising  in- 
flection in  her  kindly  voice.  "They  Jre  most 
of  them  good  friends  of  mine." 

"I  should  say  she  is  glad,"  remarked 
Philip.  "She  sits  here  in  state  and  receives 
them  all,  don't  you,  Grammy  ? " 

"  I  don't  know  as  there  's  much  state  about 
it."  The  old  lady  smiled,  and  leaned  toward 
Diana.  "Miss  Wilbur,  I  guess  you  Ve  found 
out  already  that  Philip  is  the  foolishest  boy 
that  ever  lived.  We  can't  afford  to  mind  his 
talk,  can  we  ? " 

93 


THE  KEY  NOTE 


"But  his  singing,  Mrs.  Dorking,"  Diana 
looked  up  at  Philip's  tow  head  towering 
toward  the  low  ceiling.  "It  doesn't  greatly 
matter  how  he  talks  when  he  can  sing  as  he 
does." 

"Yes,"  returned  the  old  lady,  again  with 
the  moderate  rising  inflection.  "I  will  say 
Philip 's  got  a  real  pretty  voice. " 

"And  there  is  a  piano!"  said  Diana,  wist- 
fully looking  across  the  room  at  the  ancient 
square  instrument. 

"That  is  a  very  polite  'name  for  it,"  re- 
marked Philip. 

"Oh,  Mr.  Barrison,  could  you,  won't  you, 
sing  some  song  of  the  sea  ?"  The  girl  clasped 
her  hands  in  prospect.  "I  'm  your  guest, you 
know.  It  is  not  quite  possible  to  refuse. " 

"Of  the  sea,  eh?"  Philip  looked  at  his 
watch.  "I  think  we  have  time  before  the 
boat  comes.  I'll  make  a  bargain  with  you. 
I  '11  sing  you  a  song  if  you  will  go  down  to  the 
boat  with  me  and  meet  my  accompanist." 

"Oh,  is  your  accompanist  coming  ?" 

"Even  so.  But  when  is  an  accompanist  not 
an  accompanist  ?  Answer:  When  he  comes  to 
the  sea  to  fish.  I '  ve  lured  you  far  from  home  and 
dinner,  so  you  come  to  the  boat  with  me  and 
I'll  send  you  home  in  Bill  Lindsay's  chariot." 

94 


A  FIRELIGHT  INTERVIEW 

"Very  well,  but  —  please  sing!" 
"Oh,  yes.  A  song  of  the  sea  is  the  order,  I 
understand.  Meanwhile,  I  accompany  myself 
on  the  harp." 

Philip  moved  over  to  the  piano.  It  was 
placed  so  he  could  look  over  the  case  at  his 
listeners.  He  ran  his  fingers  over  the  yellow 
keys  which  gave  out  a  thin,  tinkling  sound, 
and  then  plunged  into  song: 

"The  owl  and  the  pussy  cat  went  to  sea 
In  a  beautiful  pea-green  boat, 
They  took  some  honey  and  plenty  of  money 
Wrapped  up  in  a  five-pound  note. 
The  owl  looked  up  to  the  stars  above 
And  sang  to  a  small  guitar, 
'Oh,  lovely  Pussy,  Oh,  Pussy,  my  love, 
What  a  beautiful  Pussy  you  are!": 

Philip  had  never  seen  Diana  look  as  lovely 
as  when  he  finished  and  rose.  There  was  no 
doubt  now  that  she  could  laugh.  His  enun- 
ciation was  perfect,  and  the  alternations  of 
sentimentality  and  fire  with  which  he  had 
delivered  the  nonsense  made  it  thrilling  in  the 
little  room  where  his  velvet,  vibrant  tones  at 
moments  shook  the  shells  on  the  mantelpiece, 
while  they  flowed  around  the  listener's  heart. 

"That  was  delectable,"  laughed  Diana,  ap- 
plauding, her  eyes  moist  with  excitement. 

95 


THE  KEY  NOTE 


"Yes,  ain't  that  a  funny  tune  ?"  said  Mrs. 
Dorking,  looking  with  affectionate  pride  at 
her  grandson  as  he  emerged  around  the  end 
of  the  piano. 

"We  have  to  be  off,  Grammy,"  he  said, 
"or  Barney  will  be  lost  in  the  shuffle." 

Mrs.  Dorking  rose  and  urged  Diana  warmly 
to  come  again,  and  the  girl  promised  that  she 
would  do  so.  When  they  were  outside  she 
spoke: 

"Is  your  Aunt  Maria  your  grandmother's 
sister?" 

"Oh,  no."  Philip  laughed.  "She  is  a 
good  village-aunt  who  helps  in  the  home. 
She  likes  to  look  harassed  and  overworked, 
but  she  adores  having  charge  of  the  house 
since  my  grandfather's  death,  and  is  devoted 
to  Grammy.  Barney  Kelly  will  have  to 
look  out  for  himself,  for  Aunt  Maria  is  an 
excellent  cook  and  Kelly  would  be  inclined  to 
umbumpum  if  he  did  n't  mortify  the  flesh. 
He  's  a  Canuck  and  one  of  the  best  fellows 
going." 

"And  are  those  summer  cottages  ?"  asked 
Diana,  her  glance  sweeping  over  an  adjacent 
field.  It  was  high  ground  sloping  gradually  to 
the  sea,  and  was  dotted  with  shingled  cottages 
of  varying  shapes  and  sizes. 

96 


A  FIRELIGHT  INTERVIEW 

"Yes,  that  was  my  grandfather's  pasture, 
and  many  a  time  I've  gone  there  for  the 
cows.  But  one  woman  after  another  besieged 
him  for  the  ground,  and  he  sold  it  off. " 

"If  I  had  some  land  here,  I  would  prefer 
to  be  more  isolated,"  said  Diana. 

"Then  you  would  better  speak  quick," 
said  Philip.  "The  country  seems  to  have  its 
eye  on  Casco  Bay.  There  comes  the  boat 
around  the  point  now." 

They  hastened  their  pace  and  went  down 
a  flight  of  steps  which  led  to  the  wharf.  It 
was  a  busy  spot  full  of  people  and  trunks  and 
barrels  and  boxes.  Everybody  greeted  Philip 
and  looked  at  Diana,  and  Philip  presently 
descried  the  peering  face  of  a  man  on  the 
upper  deck  of  the  approaching  boat.  He  was 
dressed  in  a  double-breasted  suit  of  a  fine 
check  and  carried  a  stick  which,  presently 
descrying  Philip's  blond  head,  he  shook  in  his 
direction  and,  picking  up  his  bag,  turned  and 
went  downstairs  at  the  call:  "Land  from  the 
lower  deck."  The  newcomer  was  evidently 
alive  all  over  and  impatient  of  the  delay  to 
the  moment  when  he  could  run  up  the 
gangplank.  From  time  to  time  he  shook  his 
stick  toward  Philip,  and  gazed  at  the  girl 
beside  him.  At  last  he  gained  the  wharf,  set 

97 


THE  KEY  NOTE 


down  his  bag  and  shook  hands  with  Philip. 
Being  presented  to  Miss  Wilbur,  he  took  off 
his  hat  and  disclosed  tight  curly  hair,  close- 
clipped  and  groomed  to  the  last  degree  of 
shine. 

"Perfectly  heavenly  sail  we  've  had  down, 
or  up,  I  don't  know  which  it  is, "  he  exclaimed 
with  a  burr  to  his  r's  which  increased  the 
enthusiastic  effect  of  his  speech. 

"I  told  you  it  was  paradise,"  said  Philip. 

"And  you  proved  it  by  bringing  one  o'  the 
angels  with  you,"  returned  Kelly,  smiling 
at  Diana. 

She  regarded  him  with  her  usual  serenity. 
"I  see  that,  like  Mr.  Barrison,  you  enjoy 
using  hyperbole,"  she  said. 

"Really,"  returned  Kelly  curiously.  "Am 
I  that  clever  ?  Yes,  old  chap,  here 's  my  check. 
I  have  a  box  somewhere  around  these  dig- 
gings." 

"Now,  wait  a  minute,"  said  Philip.  "I 
lured  Miss  Wilbur  down  here  with  me  to  meet 
you  and  now  I  must  return  her  honorably  to 
her  dinner.  Oh,  Bill." 

He  pushed  through  the  crowd  to  where  the 
motor  stood,  the  center  of  new  arrivals. 
"Save  one  seat,  Bill,"  he  said.  "Lady  for 
Miss  Burridge's. " 

.98 


A  FIRELIGHT  INTERVIEW 

There  was  some  good-natured  crowding, 
but  there  being  two  more  passengers  for  Miss 
Burridge's,  Diana  was  squeezed  in,  and  Bar- 
ney Kelly,  his  hat  waving  from  his  hand, 
quite  eclipsed  Philip  in  the  attentiveness  with 
which  he  bade  her  goodspeed. 

"Who 's  the  Vere  de  Vere  ?"  he  asked  when 
Bill  Lindsay  had  whipped  up  his  engine  and 
moved  off. 

"A  young  lady  from  Philadelphia,"  re- 
turned Philip,  a  trifle  stiffly. 

"Are  n't  touchy  about  her,  are  you  ? 
Great  Scott,  boy,  you  have  n't  had  time ! 
Now,  if  it  had  been  me,  a  day  's  enough.  Fire 
and  tow.  Fire  and  tow.  You  'd  supply  the 
tow  all  right,  old  cotton-top,  but  I '11  be  hanged 
if  I  can  see  where  she  'd  provide  the  spark. 
Don't  you  touch  that  bag,  Barrison,"  for 
Philip  had  caught  up  his  guest's  suitcase. 
"Like  a  condemned  fool,  I  put  the  scores  in 
it  instead  of  in  the  box.  There  must  be  some 
horse  here  that  would  n't  take  it  quite  so  much 
to  heart  as  I  do." 

"All  right,"  said  Philip.  "It  can  come  up 
with  your  trunk.  Here,  Matt, " —  for  the  too- 
popular  carpenter  was  expressman  as  well,  — 
"this  is  my  friend  Mr.  Kelly.  He  aids  and 
abets  me  when  I  shriek  at  the  public  and  he  's 

99 


THE  KEY  NOTE 


loaded  up  his  bag  with  music.  Bring  it  along 
with  his  trunk,  will  you  ?  Here  's  the  check. 
Mr.  Blake,  Barney." 

The  newcomer  shook  hands  with  the  long- 
legged,  long-armed  thin  man  in  his  shirt- 
sleeves, and  Matt  Blake  appraised  the  stranger 
out  of  his  blue,  grave,  shrewd  island  eyes. 

"Just  crazy  about  this  place  already,  Mr. 
Blake,  just  crazy  about  it,"  the  newcomer 
assured  him,  and  Matt  Blake  nodded  his 
old  straw  hat  and  listed  the  volatile  Barney 
as  "another  nut." 

It  was  about  a  week  afterward  that  op- 
portunity found  Mrs.  Lowell  and  Nicholas 
Gayne  together  one  evening  in  the  living- 
room  of  the  Inn.  It  was  cool  and  a  wood  fire 
blazed  on  the  hearth,  but  the  night  was  still 
inviting  and  had  lured  the  others  to  put  on 
wraps  and  stay  out  of  doors. 

When  Mrs.  Lowell  came  in,  Gayne  was  in 
a  wicker  rocker  before  the  fire,  his  legs 
stretched  out,  and,  as  the  lady  entered,  he 
drew  them  in  and  rose. 

"You  are  choosing  the  better  part,  too,  are 
you  ?"  he  said,  not  doubting  that  his  presence 
was  proving  as  much  of  an  attraction  as  the 
fire.  Two  other  men  had  arrived,  teachers 

100 


A  FIRELIGHT  INTERVIEW 

from  a  boys'  school,  Evans  and  Pratt  by 
name,  and  it  was  probable  that  Miss  Emer- 
son was  figuratively  sitting  at  the  feet  of  one 
of  them  and  asking  questions  about  the  stars. 
At  all  events,  she  was  out  of  doors.  Nicholas 
Gayne  had  looked  up  apprehensively  at  Mrs. 
Lowell's  entrance,  fearing  the  worst;  and 
his  relief  caused  him  to  be  quite  effusive  in 
his  welcome  of  the  lady  and  the  manner  in 
which  he  brought  forward  a  chair  for  her. 

"Have  you  had  a  good  day  ?"  she  asked  as 
she  seated  herself  and  he  fell  back  into  his 
rocker. 

"It  has  been  a  nice  day,  yes." 

"I  meant  as  to  your  work." 

"My  work?" 

"Yes,  your  sketching." 

"Oh.  Oh,  yes,  of  course.  Fine.  Very  clear. 
Very  good  views." 

"I  suppose  you  elaborate  these  in  your 
studio  in  town." 

"What?  Oh,  well  —  it  isn't  much  of  a 
studio  at  that.  It  is  more  or  less  on  the  side  — 
my  art  work.  I  —  I  make  no  pretensions. 
Everybody  's  got  to  have  a  fad  to  be  truly 
happy,  have  n't  they  ?  I  like  to  scrawl  and 
daub  a  little." 

"You  are  modest.  I  Ve  been  expecting  you 
101 


THE  KEY  NOTE 


would  show  us  some  of  these  views.  This 
place  is  surely  one  to  tempt  the  artist.  Doubt- 
less you  have  seen  some  of  Frederic  Waugh's 
canvases  done  from  the  sketches  he  made 
here." 

"  Eh  ?  Who  ?  Oh,  yes,  of  course,"  replied 
Gayne  lamely.  "  Strange  that  that  Miss  Wil- 
bur should  ever  have  struck  this  island.  I 
understand  she  's  the  daughter  of  the  steel 
man.  I  suppose  she's  slumming."  Gayne 
laughed. 

Mrs.  Lowell  could  not  force  a  responsive 
smile.  "She  is  a  very  charming  girl."  After 
a  pause  :  "  I  've  had  several  talks  with  your 
nephew,  Mr.  Gayne." 

Her  companion  shook  off  the  ash  from  his 
cigar  into  the  fire. 

"You  did  the  talking,  I  'm  sure,"  he  re- 
sponded dryly,  and  his  manner  made  her 
determined  to  be  doubly  careful  how  she  pro- 
ceeded. 

"This  place  should  build  him  up, "  she  said. 
"He  seems  a  rather  fragile  boy." 

"Yes.  He  grew  too  fast;  makes  him  rather 
weedy.  Too  bad  he  did  n't  keep  pace  men- 
tally. He  's  weedy  there,  too. " 

"I  should  think  it  might  be  well  to  have 
him  tutored  for  an  hour  a  day  while  he  is  here." 

1 02 


A  FIRELIGHT  INTERVIEW 

Mrs.  Lowell  tried  to  speak  carelessly  as  she 
kept  her  eyes  on  the  blaze. 

"How  could  you  find  a  tutor  in  a  place 
like  this?"  was  the  response.  "Surely  Mr. 
Pratt  and  Mr.  Evans  —  I  understand  they 
are  teachers  —  would  n't  take  kindly  to  the 
task  of  trying  to  find  Bert's  brains  while 
they  're  on  their  vacation." 

"No,  I  was  thinking  of  a  very  simple  plan. 
Miss  Burridge's  niece,  Veronica,  would  per- 
haps be  glad  to  work  with  the  boy  an  hour  a 
day.  She  has  a  good  common  education." 

"Nothing  doing,  Mrs.  Lowell."  Nicholas 
Gayne  sat  up  in  his  chair  and  evidently  put 
a  constraint  upon  himself.  "You  come  upon 
this  problem  as  a  new  one  and  you  think  you 
understand  it,  but  you  don't.  You  think  it 's 
not  hopeless,  but  it  is.  The  boy  began  by 
being  backward  and  he 's  got  worse  and 
worse  all  his  life.  He  could  n't  keep  up  with 
any  class  in  school  and  I  finally  took  him  out. 
Oh,  I  've  done  my  best,  believe  me.  I  had  a 
tutor  come  to  the  house  for  a  while,  but  I  was 
finally  convinced  that  Bert  had  n't  the  equip- 
ment to  think  with.  Of  course,  there 's  schools 
for  deficient  children,  but  have  you  got  any 
idea  what  they  cost  ?  I  'm  a  poor  man.  I 
could  n't  pay  what  they  tax  you.  Bert  '11 

103 


THE  KEY  NOTE 


end  up  in  an  institution,  that  's  the  place  for 
him;  but  I  'm  soft-hearted.  I  '11  keep  him 
with  me  as  long  as  I  can.  The  doctors  all 
warn  you  that  it  is  n't  safe.  That  kind  of  weak 
intellect  is  liable  to  take  a  dangerous  turn  any 
time.  There  's  thousands  of  cases  where  re- 
lations have  insisted  on  keeping  morons  like 
Bert  near  them  too  long.  I  only  hope  I  shan't. 
Just  take  my  advice,  Mrs.  Lowell,  and  don't 
have  much  to  say  to  the  boy.  He  gets  along 
best  when  he's  left  alone.  It  does  n't  do  to  try 
to  wake  up  that  kind  of  a  brain.  There's  no 
normal  balance  there,  and  any  sharpening 
is  liable  to  make  it  take  a  wrong  shoot.  I  've 
been  on  this  problem  five  years,  and,  believe 
me,  I  know  something  about  it." 

The  speaker's  voice  grew  more  and  more 
blustering  as  he  proceeded,  and  Mrs.  Lowell 
could  feel  her  limbs  trembling  with  the  in- 
tensity of  her  own  feeling  and  the  necessity 
for  concealing  her  thoughts  from  him. 

"He  is  your  brother's  child,  I  understand," 
she  said  quietly,  when  Gayne  had  made  his 
last  emphatic  gesture  and  sunk  back  in  his 
chair,  red  in  the  face. 

"Yes,  he  is.  These  things  are  awful  in  a 
family." 

"Awful,"  echoed  Mrs.  Lowell. 
104 


A  FIRELIGHT  INTERVIEW 

The  next  morning,  after  breakfast,  she 
went  to  Diana's  room  and  knocked.  The 
girl  welcomed  her  in.  She  was  shaking  a 
blanket. 

"I  do  enjoy  making  my  bed  so  much,"  she 
said.  "I  learned  how  at  school." 

"Then  let  me  watch  you  do  it  while  I  talk 
to  you."  The  visitor  sat  down,  and  Diana 
went  on  in  the  most  earnest  manner  to 
tuck  in  sheets  and  pat  and  smooth  pillows  as 
if  her  life  depended  on  the  squareness  of 
corners. 

"  I  had  a  talk  with  Mr.  Gayne  last  night. " 

"I  observed  you  through  the  window.  I 
felt  a  certainty  that  you  were  not  happy." 

"It  was  an  ordeal,  but  I  verified  my  sus- 
picions —  my  worst  suspicions.  The  man  is 
planning  to  get  his  nephew  out  of  the  way,  to 
have  him  shut  up." 

Diana  left  the  flap  of  a  pillow-case  to  its 
fate  and  faced  her  caller. 

"To  incarcerate  him!" 

"Yes.  In  an  asylum.  Some  state  institu- 
tion. He  has  been  training  the  boy  toward 
that  end.  You  have  seen  it.  I  have  seen  it. 
What  is  his  motive  ?  That  is  the  question. " 

"Don't  you  think  it  maybe  merely  to  rid 
himself  of  a  burden  which  hampers  his  life  ?" 

105 


THE  KEY  NOTE 


"But  his  own  flesh  and  blood!"  exclaimed 
Mrs.  Lowell.  "Does  any  one  live  who  would 
go  to  such  lengths  without  a  greater  reason  ? 
Miss  Wilbur,  let  us  see  what  the  man  does  in 
these  daily  rambles  of  his.  I  am  convinced 
that  his  artistic  pose  is  a  cloak.  He  did  n't 
even  know  who  Frederic  Waugh  was. " 

"Oh,  but  to  accompany  the  creature!" 
protested  Diana. 

"No,  of  course,  we  should  n't  find  out  any- 
thing by  accompanying  him  except  that  he 
cannot  sketch,  and  I  'm  sure  of  that  already. 
But  let  us  go  to  walk  this  morning,  and  why 
not  visit  the  haunted  farm  ?" 

"No  reason  except  that  he  knows  we  are 
aware  that  he  haunts  the  place,  which,  if  I 
were  a  ghost,  would  make  it  immune  from  my 
visits. " 

"Yes,  but  he  cannot  expect  us  to  remember 
or  care  where  he  goes.  I  feel  I  must  be  doing 
something  about  this,  no  matter  how  slight, 
and  —  and  don't  let  Miss  Emerson  join  us 
as  we  go  out. " 

"Perish  the  thought!"  said  Diana  de- 
voutly. 

"God  will  not  let  this  outrage  take  place," 
said  Mrs.  Lowell,  her  thought  leaping  back 
from  Miss  Emerson  to  the  neglected  boy.  "  I 

1 06 


A  FIRELIGHT  INTERVIEW 

wish  I  could  ask  Bertie  to  go  with  us,  but  I 
feel  I  must  be  very  careful  not  to  let  his  uncle 
suspect  the  depth  of  my  interest. " 

"Miss  Emerson  is  very  timorous  about 
horned  cattle, "  said  Diana.  "We  can  remem- 
ber that.  Sunburn,  too.  She  has  a  great 
dread  of  becoming  tanned." 

With  these  encouraging  considerations  the 
two  amateur  detectives  stole  downstairs.  Mrs. 
Lowell  went  to  the  kitchen  where  Veronica 
was  as  usual  at  this  hour  drying  the  break- 
fast dishes. 

"Miss  Veronica,"  she  said,  "would  you  do 
a  little  missionary  work  this  morning  ?" 

"I  'd  like  to  hear  about  it  first,"  was  the 
cautious  reply. 

"Veronica  is  ready  for  every  good  word 
and  work,  Mrs.  Lowell,"  put  in  Miss  Bur- 
ridge,  "but  she  's  a  busy  child." 

"I  know  that,  but  I  wondered  if  she 
could  give  half  an  hour  to  playing  a  game  of 
croquet  with  Bert  Gayne. " 

"Oh,  land!"  exclaimed  the  girl,  aghast. 
"He  won't  want  to." 

"That's  the  point,  Miss  Veronica," — Mrs. 
Lowell  looked  with  her  loving,  radiant  gaze 
into  the  young  girl's  eyes.  "We  want  to 
make  him  know  that  young  people  don't 

107 


THE  KEY  NOTE 


shrink  from  him.  He  knows  that  I  don't.  I 
want  him  to  know  that  an  attractive  young 
girl  like  you  does  n't  either.  You  can  see 
that  his  mind  is  sick.  He  has  had  great 
sorrow. " 

"Sure!"  said  Veronica.  "It's  sorrow 
enough  to  have  that  uncle  of  his." 

"Ve-ronica!"  exclaimed  Miss  Burridge 
with  one  of  her  warning  looks  at  the  back  of 
Genevieve's  head. 

"You  know  now  what  I  meant  by  call- 
ing it  missionary  work,"  said  Mrs.  Lowell. 
"Think  about  it  if  you  have  time.  You  will 
find  the  boy  dull  and  distrustful.  I  have  great 
hopes  of  you.  Try  to  make  him  bright  and 
trustful.  I  know  it  can't  be  done  in  a  minute." 
The  speaker  again  smiled  confidentially  into 
the  girl's  eyes. 

Diana  appeared  in  the  entrance. 

"Miss  Emerson  is  in  the  hammock,"  she 
said  softly.  "Shall  we  take  the  back  way?" 

They  slipped  out  the  kitchen  door  and  Ve- 
ronica scrubbed  a  plate  already  dry. 

"Mrs.  Lowell  is  the  sweetest,  prettiest, 
most  darling  woman  I  ever  saw,"  she  stated. 

"But  nothin'  like  that  Miss  Diana,"  ut- 
tered Genevieve  in,  for  her,  a  lowered  voice. 
"  She  's  so  grand  it  scares  me  when  she  looks 

1 08 


A  FIRELIGHT  INTERVIEW 

at  me,  and  Matt  Blake  says  her  father  owns 
the  whole  of  Pennsylvania. " 

Veronica  turned  up  an  already  aspiring 
nose  and  grunted  disparagingly.  It  was  hard 
to  forgive  Diana  for  being  a  goddess  and 
not  chewing  gum. 


CHAPTER  VI 

THE  HAUNTED  FARM 

"'WHERE  every  prospect  pleases,' '  said 
Diana,  "'and  only  man  is  vile." 

They  had  crossed  the  field  and  come  up  to 
the  height  of  the  road  which  commanded  an 
extensive  view  of  the  bay  and  other  islands. 
They  stood  still  for  a  minute. 

"Are  you  at  all  interested  in  metaphysics, 
Miss  Diana  ?"  asked  her  companion. 

"I  think  I  am.  I  am  interested  in  every- 
thing." 

"I  don't  like  the  latter  half  of  that  quo- 
tation," said  Mrs.  Lowell.  "It  stands  to 
reason  that  God  could  n't  create  anything 
vile." 

"No,  of  course,"  agreed  the  girl.  "It  is 
man  who  makes  himself  vile." 

"God's  man  could  n't  do  that  either,"  re- 
turned Mrs.  Lowell.  "There  is  no  poten- 
tiality in  him  for  vileness." 

"Then,"  said  Diana,  "how  do  you  explain 
Mr.  Gayne  and  his  like?" 

"He  is  a  man  whose  real  selfhood  is  buried 
under  a  mass  of  selfishness  and  cruelty,  the 
beliefs  of  error  and  mortality.  God  does  n't 

no 


THE  HAUNTED  FARM 


even  know  what  the  poor  creature  believes, 
and  all  his  mistakes  and  blundering  will  have 
to  be  blotted  out  finally  by  suffering,  unless 
he  should  learn  to  turn  to  the  Love  that  is  al- 
ways available;  for  God  can't  know  anything 
unlike  Himself." 

"Your  ideas  are  quite  new  to  me, "  said  the 
girl.  "I  am  an  Episcopalian." 

Mrs.  Lowell  smiled.  She  understood  this 
final  tone. 

"Then  you  are  satisfied,  I  see." 

"So  far  as  religion  goes,  yes." 

"Religion  goes  all  the  way,  my  dear  girl." 

They  turned  to  the  right  and  continued 
their  walk. 

"The  islanders  call  this  direction  *up- 
along,'  Mr.  Blake  told  me,"  said  Diana.  "If 
we  had  turned  south  we  should  have  gone 
'down-along.'  Isn't  that  quaint?  Mr.  Bar- 
rison's  grandmother  lives  down-along.  He 
took  me  to  see  her  the  other  day,  the  sweetest 
old  lady." 

"That  refreshing  young  man  hails  from 
here,  then  ? " 

:<  Yes.  He  is  the  Viking  type,  is  he  not  ?  I 
can  picture  him  in  the  prow  of  one  of  those 
strange  Norse  ships.  Physically  he  seems  an 
anachronism." 


in 


THE  KEY  NOTE 


Mrs.  Lowell  smiled.  "Physically,  perhaps, 
but  colloquially  he  is  certainly  an  up-to-the- 
minute  American." 

"He  is  an  eminent  singer  and  has  shown 
himself  a  hero  in  arriving  at  that  point. " 

"A  hero,  really?" 

"Yes,  but  most  unconsciously  so." 

"He  is  certainly  as  unaffected  and  straight- 
forward as  a  child,"  said  Mrs.  Lowell.  "I 
hope  he  will  sing  for  us. " 

"I  have  heard  him  once,"  said  Diana.  "It 
was  merely  a  nonsense  song,  because  he  had 
only  an  heirloom  of  a  piano  —  a  harp  he 
called  it,  and  I  imagine  harpsichords  did 
sound  similar  to  that.  Now,  we  are  on  a 
high  point  of  the  island,  Mrs.  Lowell. " 

They  paused  again  and,  looking  off,  saw  a 
vast  ocean  in  all  directions,  foam  breaking  on 
its  ledges.  Mrs.  Lowell  drew  a  long  breath  of 
delight. 

"'Every  prospect  pleases,'  "  she  said. 

"Does  it  not  seem  a  pity, "  returned  Diana, 
"that  it  is  our  duty  to  hunt  for  a  vile,  imi- 
tation man  ? " 

Mrs.  Lowell  laughed.  "He  is  scarcely  even 
an  imitation,"  she  replied.  "But  come,"  she 
sighed,  "let  us  go  after  him.  I  wonder  what 
gave  this  farm  its  reputation."  They  walked  on. 

112 


THE  HAUNTED  FARM 


"I'll  ask  Mr.  Blake,"  began  Diana.  "Oh, 
here  he  comes  now." 

The  carpenter  was  returning  down  the  is- 
land preparing  to  take  up  his  freight  duties  on 
the  wharf.  Diana  accosted  him  and  introduced 
him  to  Mrs.  Lowell. 

The  latter  shook  hands  with  Matt,  her 
radiant  smile  beaming,  "I  am  glad  to  meet 
you,  Mr.  Blake,"  she  said.  "You  seem  to 
be  Miss  Wilbur's  oracle.  She  is  always  quot- 
ing you,  and  I  am  rather  curious  about  this 
farm  up  here.  Why  do  they  call  it  haunt- 
ed?" 

"Oh,"  said  Blake,  "let  any  place  be  left 
empty  a  few  years,  and  windows  get  loose, 
and  blinds  bang,  and  it 's  called  haunted." 

"I  suppose  that  is  often  true,"  said  Mrs. 
Lowell.  "It  is  an  abandoned  farm,  then?" 

"Yes,  for  many  years." 

"  I  don 't  know  why  I  have  never  inspected 
it, "  said  Diana,  "when  who  knows  but  it  is  the 
very  homestead  for  me  ? " 

Matt  Blake  shook  his  head  and  smiled. 
"The  old  house  is  crumbling  away.  There  is 
a  part  of  it  that  '11  keep  the  rain  off,  and  there 
Mr.  Gayne  keeps  his  stuff." 

"Stuff?"  echoed  Mrs.  Lowell  interroga- 
tively. 

"3 


THE  KEY  NOTE 


"Brushes  and  paints  and  pencils  and  all  his 
outfit,"  said  Blake. 

"  Oh,  oh,  yes, "  replied  the  lady.  "  You  know 
in  the  West  a  squatter  claims  complete  rights 
to  the  land  he  has  settled  on.  I  hope  Mr. 
Gayne  has  n't  established  an  ownership  up 
there  that  will  make  us  seem  like  intruders. 
We  thought  we  would  like  to  see  this  exciting 
place. " 

"  T  ain't  exciting,"  said  Matt  Blake  with 
another  shake  of  the  head.  "It 's  asleep  and 
snoring,  the  Dexter  farm  is." 

"Who  does  own  the  place?"  asked  Diana 
with  interest. 

"It  would  take  a  pretty  smart  lawyer  to 
find  that  out,"  was  the  reply.  "It 's  been  in 
litigation  longer  than  it 's  been  haunted. 
There  's  three  women,  I  believe,  pullin'  and 
haulin'  on  it." 

"I  think  I  might  pull  and  haul,  too,  if  I 
find  I  like  it,"  said  Diana  with  her  most 
dreamy  serenity,  and  Matt  Blake  laughed. 

"Well,  you  won't,"  he  returned.  "'T  would 
give  a  body  the  Injun  blues  to  live  there.  How 
Mr.  Gayne  can  stand  it  even  in  the  daytime 
is  a  mystery  to  me;  and  there  don't  either  o' 
the  claimants  really  want  it.  They  live 
around  the  State  somewheres.  I  s'pose  it 

114 


THE  HAUNTED  FARM 


would  be  hard  to  buy  'em  out  at  that,  be- 
cause landowners  here  seem  to  think  the 
island 's  goin'  to  turn  into  a  regular  Newport 
and  that  they  '11  make  a  fortune  if  they  only 
hang  on." 

"Do  not  speak  such  desecrating  words!" 
begged  Diana.  "Do  not  hint  at  waking  the 
island  from  its  alluring,  scented  dream. " 

Matt  Blake  gave  her  a  patient  stare.  "Just 
as  you  say, "  he  returned.  He  had  already,  as 
a  fruit  of  many  interviews  with  Diana,  given 
her  up  as  a  conundrum.  He  tipped  his  hat 
and  continued  on  his  way. 

The  two  companions  pursued  theirs,  and 
soon  came  to  where  a  rather  steep  hill  led 
down  to  the  northern  beach. 

''Now,  we  do  not  go  down  there  unless  we 
wish  to  be  'set  across.'  That  is  what  they 
call  it:  set  across  to  the  next  island,  our  near 
neighbor." 

"We  must  do  it  some  day,"  replied  Mrs. 
Lowell,  looking  at  that  other  green  hill  rising 
out  of  the  sea. 

As  they  stood  gazing,  they  saw  a  man  run 
across  the  rocks  on  its  shore  and  hail  a  row- 
boat  which  came  to  meet  him. 

"It  is  within  rowing  distance,  isn't  it?" 
said  Mrs.  Lowell. 


THE  KEY  NOTE 


"Yes.  Little  Genevieve  told  me,  one  can 
always  find  some  fisherman  who  is  willing  to 
act  as  a  ferry."  Diana  looked  about.  "I 
think  we  shall  be  obliged  to  ask  our  path  to 
the  farm.  Let  us  go  to  that  cottage  over  there. 
It  is  probably  on  our  way." 

They  proceeded  to  a  house  near  the  road 
where  cats  and  chickens  seemed  equally  nu- 
merous, and  knocked. 

"Will  you  tell  us  how  to  get  to  the  Dexter 
farm  ?"  asked  Diana  of  the  woman  who  an- 
swered the  summons. 

The  woman  pointed.  "You  go  right  up 
that  way  to  Brook  Cove  and  you  '11  really  be 
on  the  farm  then  if  you  keep  to  the  right  bank. 
You  '11  see  the  old  house  near  a  big  willow 
tree." 

They  thanked  her  and  moved  on. 

"What  pleasant  voices  these  people  have," 
said  Diana.  "They  have  not  been  obliged  to 
shout  above  clanging  trolleys  and  auto  horns." 

"No;  all  except  Genevieve,"  returned  Mrs. 
Lowell.  "I  should  guess  that  she  had  been 
brought  up  in  a  boiler  factory. " 

"Yet  it  is  a  piercing  sweetness,"  protested 
Diana. 

Mrs.  Lowell  laughed.  "The  island  can  do 
no  wrong,  eh  ?" 

116 


THE  HAUNTED  FARM 


"Perhaps  I  am  somewhat  partial,"  admit- 
ted the  girl. 

They  sprang  along  over  the  rough  hillside, 
and  at  last  came  to  a  deep,  precipitous  cleft  in 
its  shore.  The  rocky  sides  of  the  hollow  were 
decked  with  clumps  of  clinging  shrub  and 
evergreen  and  the  clear  water  lapped  a  min- 
iature beach. 

"Why  Brook  Cove?"  asked  Mrs.  Lowell. 
"I  suppose  there  must  be  one  about  here. 
What  a  mystery  the  springs  are  in  the  midst 
of  all  this  salt  water.  Miss  Burridge  says 
everybody  has  a  well." 

Diana  gave  her  her  most  dreamy  and  se- 
raphic look. 

"Angels  fold  their  wings  and  rest 
In  this  haven  of  the  blest," 

she  replied. 

"I  wish  only  angels  did, "  sighed  Mrs.  Low- 
ell. "You  remind  me  of  our  errand." 

"Don't  you  think  we  might  spare  a  few 
minutes  for  repose?"  asked  Diana,  looking 
wistfully  at  the  bank  where  the  grass  grew 
close  and  green  to  the  very  edge  of  the  chasm. 

"You  want  to  sit  down  and  let  your  feet 
hang  over, "  laughed  Mrs.  Lowell.  "You  may 
as  well  confess  it." 

As  she  spoke,  a  man  appeared  on  the  other 
117 


THE  KEY  NOTE 


side  of  the  cove.  He  skirted  it  and,  hurrying, 
passed  them  and  disappeared  in  a  grove  of  fir 
trees. 

Mrs.  Lowell  looked  at  her  companion  with 
large  eyes. 

"All  the  Sherlock  Holmes  in  me  responds 
to  that  man,"  she  said  in  a  low  tone.  "This 
is  no  time  to  let  our  feet  hang  over.  He  prob- 
ably is  the  very  one  who  came  across  in  the 
rowboat  and  he  is  on  an  errand.  His  whole 
manner  showed  it.  We  're  on  the  right  bank. 
So  we  're  on  the  farm  now.  Let  us  go  into 
those  woods  and  see  what  happens." 

"Shall  we  not  be  intruding?"  said  Diana, 
hesitating. 

"I  hope  so,"  returned  Mrs.  Lowell  val- 
iantly, and  she  seized  her  companion's  hand 
and  drew  her  toward  the  grove.  There  a 
winding  path  greeted  them,  a 'lover's  lane, 
between  close-growing  firs,  and  together  they 
sped  along  the  scented  aisle.  The  man  was 
the  swifter  and,  by  the  time  they  emerged 
from  the  fir  grove,  he  was  approaching  a  huge 
willow  tree  near  the  crumbling  farmhouse 
built  in  a  hollow  with  protecting  mounds  of 
green  hills  and  trees  on  three  sides  of  it. 

They  saw  Gayne  come  out  of  the  house  and 
shake  hands  with  the  man,  giving  him  a  most 

118 


THE  HAUNTED  FARM 


effusive  welcome,  but  before  he  had  had  op- 
portunity to  do  more  than  this,  the  host  de- 
scried the  other  visitors. 

The  eyes  of  both  young  women  being  ex- 
cellent, they  were  able  to  observe  the  light- 
ning change  which  took  place  in  the  pleased 
excitement  of  his  face.  The  ugly  frown  that 
appeared  was  banished  as  soon  as  he  could 
control  himself.  He  said  something  to  the 
other  man,  and  the  latter  walked  on  to  a  rise 
of  ground  where  he  stood  to  enjoy  the  view, 
and  Gayne  came  to  meet  the  ladies. 

"Ah,  good-day,"  he  said  with  as  pleasant 
a  manner  as  he  could  command.  "Your  ex- 
plorations are  leading  you  far  this  morning. " 

"Is  this  the  Dexter  farm?"  asked  Mrs. 
Lowell. 

"The  very  same,"  replied  Gayne  lightly. 
"  I  see  its  creepy  reputation  has  aroused  your 
curiosity.  Too  bad  there  is  n't  more  here  to 
gratify  it.  It  is  a  very  tame  place  by  daylight, 
as  you  see." 

"The  house  is  a  ruin,  they  tell  me.  Does  n't 
it  seem  a  pity  that  should  have  been  allowed  ? 
The  place  is  full  of  possibilities,  is  n't  it  ?" 

"I  should  say  not,"  returned  Gayne,  speak- 
ing curtly  in  spite  of  his  best  efforts.  "It  is 
about  the  least  attractive  part  of  the  island. 

119 


THE  KEY  NOTE 


Far  from  the  open  ocean,  no  place  to  bathe, 
cuddled  into  a  hollow,  no  views." 

Mrs.  Lowell  met  his  impatient  look. 

"I  thought  the  very  reason  you  chose  this 
for  a  sort  of  artist  camp  was  on  account  of 
the  views,"  she  said  pleasantly. 

"A  headquarters.  A  headquarters  only," 
said  Gayne  quickly.  "I  haven't  locomotor 
ataxia,  you  know,"  he  added,  laughing;  "I 
can  still  get  about." 

"I  should  like  very  much  to  see  that  old 
house, "  said  Mrs.  Lowell,  her  gaze  wandering 
over  to  it.  "We  interrupted  your  greeting  of 
a  friend.  Please  don't  let  us  detain  you.  We 
will  just  roam  around  here  a  bit." 

Nicholas  Gayne  hesitated  for  an  instant  as 
the  young  women  moved  toward  the  house, 
but  he  followed  them. 

"There  is  nothing  to  see,  I  assure  you,  and 
it 's  an  unsafe  place.  The  floors  are  rotting; 
you  are  liable  to  fall  through  anywhere.  I 
really  feel  as  if  I  ought  to  beg  you  to  confine 
your  curiosity  to  the  outside." 

"You  speak  cjuite  like  the  owner  of  the 
place,"  said  Mrs.  Lowell,  with  an  access  of 
dignity  not  lost  upon  Gayne.  "We  will  ab- 
solve you  if  any  accident  befalls  us." 

The  man's  frown  at  her  reply  was  so  un- 
120 


THE  HAUNTED  FARM 


pleasant  that  Diana  felt  some  timidity  and 
took  her  friend's  arm. 

"Another  time,  perhaps,"  she  suggested. 

"Why  not  now,  since  we  are  here,"  returned 
Mrs.  Lowell  calmly.  " A  haunted  house  isn't 
to  be  seen  every  day."  She  smiled.  "Do 
join  your  friend,  Mr.  Gayne.  He  seems  to 
have  found  some  view  well  worth  looking  at. 
We  shall  not  stay  long. " 

"Oh,  take  your  time,"  returned  Gayne, 
seeing  that  he  could  not  prevent  the  intrusion, 
and  altering  his  manner  to  that  of  a  host. 
"  Perhaps  you  would  like  to  see  my  artist  camp 
as  you  call  it.  I  did  find  one  spot  where  there 
is  a  dry  season  and  my  canvases  can  be  safe. " 

He  led  the  way  into  the  farmhouse.  The 
paper  on  the  little  hallway  in  oval  designs  of 
faded  green  landscapes  had  peeled  and  was 
•Jianging  from  the  wall.  They  passed  into  a 
living-room  where  tattered  and  splintered  fur- 
niture and  a  rusty  stove  met  the  eye.  Back 
of  this  was  the  artist's  den  evidently.  A 
table  stood  in  the  center,  on  which  reposed 
a  palette,  some  brushes,  a  couple  of  sketch- 
books, and  a  portfolio.  Against  the  side  of 
the  room  were  a  few  canvases  leaning  against 
the  wall,  and  in  bold  relief,  supported  against 
the  table,  stood  a  pickaxe  and  a  shovel. 

121 


THE  KEY  NOTE 


Mrs.  Lowell  regarded  Gayne's  flushed 
countenance  as  he  picked  up  the  tools  and 
pushed  them  behind  a  screen. 

"Your  still-life  studies,  appropriate  to  an 
abandoned  farm?"  ;she  laughed. 

"They  don't  look  very  artistic,  I  must  say," 
returned  Gayne.  "Of  course,  I'm  an  ama- 
teur of  the  amateurs,"  he  went  on,  picking 
up  the  portfolio  (he  pronounced  it  amatoor), 
"but  a  man  is  all  the  better  for  having  a  fad, 
no  matter  how  footless.  Since  you  are  here 
and  have  caught  me  red-handed,  you  may  as 
well  know  the  worst." 

He  opened  the  portfolio  and  threw  down 
a  couple  of  crayon  sketches  of  woods,  water, 
and  rocks. 

"But  these  are  good!"  exclaimed  Mrs. 
Lowell,  in  a  tone  of  such  astonishment  that 
it  could  scarcely  be  considered  complimen- 
tary. 

Gayne  shrugged  his  shoulders,  as  Diana, 
looking  over  her  friend,  added  her  approval. 

"I  make  no  pretensions,"  he  repeated.  "I 
amuse  myself." 

His  guests  lingered  a  minute  over  the 
sketches,  then  looked  about  the  forlorn  old 
homestead,  but  as  each  step  was  closely  ac- 
companied by  Gayne,  they  soon  took  their 

122 


THE  HAUNTED  FARM 


departure,  passing  the  stranger  on  his  knoll 
as  they  walked  toward  the  sea,  over  grassy 
hill  and  fragrant  spruce-filled  hollow.  The 
stranger,  as  they  passed,  kept  his  hands 
folded  behind  him  and  stared  stolidly  ahead. 

"Were  you  ever  more  astonished  ?"  asked 
Mrs.  Lowell  in  a  low  tone  as  if  the  balsamic 
breeze  could  carry  her  words  back. 

"Your  suspicion  that  the  man  is  sailing 
under  false  colors  seems  to  be  incorrect," 
replied  Diana. 

"He's  a  rascal!"  declared  Mrs.  Lowell 
with  conviction. 

"Artists  often  are,  I  believe,"  returned 
Diana. 

"I  wish  with  all  my  heart  I  could  know 
what  he  and  his  visitor  will  talk  about  during 
the  next  half-hour,  and  what  that  pick  and 
shovel  meant.  Why  was  he  so  sorry  to  see 
us?"  Mrs.  Lowell's  brows  drew  together  in 
perplexity. 

"Perhaps  they  are  going  to  search  for 
smugglers'  treasures,  or  pirate  gold,"  sug- 
gested Diana. 

Her  companion  smiled.  "Perhaps  so.  The 
man  has  some  reason  for  promoting  the  fool- 
ish ghost  talk  and  resenting  visitors  to  his 
preserves.  Of  course,  the  treasure  idea  is  as 

123 


THE  KEY  NOTE 


foolish  as  the  phantoms,  and  just  as  little 
likely  to  fool  a  modern  man  in  his  senses. " 

Diana  shook  her  head.  "It  is  certainly 
rather  irritating  to  have  him  assume  juris- 
diction over  that  ruin  which  is  open  and  free 
to  all,"  she  said.  "I  dislike  his  personality 
extremely,  but  his  pencil  has  a  sure  touch  and 
those  sketches  showed  an  appreciation  of 
values." 

"If  he  did  them,"  said  Mrs.  Lowell 
thoughtfully. 

Diana  smiled.  "You  surely  are  consistent." 

Her  companion  drew  a  deep  breath.  "A 
man  who  can  treat  that  fragile,  sensitive, 
lonely  boy  as  he  does  —  his  own  brother's  son 
at  that  —  can  plan  to  crush  him  and  sweep 
him  out  of  his  way  as  he  would  an  insect  — 
that  man  is  dangerously  wicked,  and  so  long 
as  the  matter  has  come  to  my  notice,  I  must 
share  in  the  responsibility." 

"He  would  be  a  merciless  enemy,"  said 
Diana  warningly. 

Mrs.  Lowell  shook  her  head.  "I  shall  pray 
for  the  wisdom  of  the  serpent  and  the  harm- 
lessness  of  the  dove,"  she  said. 


CHAPTER  VII 

ANOTHER  WOUND 

MEANWHILE  Veronica,  her  morning  work  fin- 
ished, had  started  out  to  oblige  Mrs.  Lowell. 
As  she  tripped  around  the  house  in  search  of 
the  unfortunate  boy,  she  suspected  herself  of 
hoping  she  should  not  find  him.  She  sum- 
moned recollections  of  the  Boston  train  and  of 
various  occasions  since,  when  her  sympathy 
for  him  had  been  roused,  and  by  the  time  she 
espied  him  lying  against  a  rock  in  the  sun- 
shine, her  courage  had  risen  sufficiently  to 
address  him. 

"Good-morning,  Bertie,"  she  said. 

He  started,  as  was  his  habit  when  addressed, 
and  turned  his  apathetic  face  toward  her. 

"Do  you  like  to  play  croquet?" 

The  boy  rose  to  a  sitting  position. 

"I  —  '  he  began,  then  some  recollection 
came  to  him.  "I  never  did  play,"  he  finished; 
then,  his  stolid  eyes  meeting  the  fresh  young 
face:  "You  don't  need  to  be  kind  to  me," 
he  added  bluntly. 

Much  disconcerted,  Veronica  flushed. 

"What  do  you  mean?"  she  returned.  "I 
like  to  play  croquet.  I  '11  teach  you. " 

125 


THE  KEY  NOTE 


"No,"  said  the  boy.  "Uncle  Nick  said  — 
said  this  morning  that  —  that  when  people 
were  —  were  kind  to  me,  it  was  because  they 
—  they  pitied  me  because  I  was  a  fool."  The 
boy  swallowed.  "You  can  —  go  away,  please." 

Veronica's  round  eyes  snapped  with  indig- 
nation. "Your  Uncle  Nick's  the  fool  to  say 
such  a  thing, "  she  returned,  her  cheeks  grow- 
ing very  red.  "Don't  you  believe  him.  You 
and  I  are  the  youngest  people  here.  Don't 
you  think  we  ought  to  play  together  a  little  ? " 

"No.  You  pity  me.  Go  away,  please." 

"Now,  Bertie,  I  wish  you  would  n't  talk  to 
me  like  that." 

He  averted  his  head  and  was  silent,  and 
Veronica  stood  there,  uncertainly. 

"  I  wonder  if  you  are  stronger  than  I  am, " 
she  said  at  last. 

"I  don't  know." 

"The  grass  is  too  long  on  the  croquet  ground. 
I  want  to  mow  it.  The  lawnmower  is  pretty 
heavy.  Do  you  think  you  could  help  me  ?" 

The  boy  lay  still  for  a  minute  more  without 
meeting  her  eyes  again.  Then  he  pulled  him- 
self up  slowly  and  walked  beside  her  back  to 
the  shed. 

"Mr.  Barrison  makes  fun  of  our  croquet 
ground  because  it  is  rough.  I  want  him  to  see 

126 


ANOTHER  WOUND 


an  improvement  when  he  comes  again." 
Veronica  led  the  way  to  where  the  mower 
stood,  and  the  boy  took  hold  of  it  and  drew  it 
after  him  back  to  the  desired  spot. 

"I  '11  pull  up  all  the  wickets,"  said  the  girl 
eagerly,  and,  as  she  did  so,  she  cast  a  side- 
glance  at  her  companion,  waiting,  and  she 
thought  his  face  the  most  hopeless  and  sad  she 
had  ever  looked  upon.  She  could  feel  her  own 
eyes  sting. 

"None  of  that,  none  of  that,"  she  told 
herself. 

"Now,  don't  you  get  too  tired,"  she  said. 
"Let  me  take  my  turn."  She  followed  him 
as  he  went  across  the  ground  once  and  back 
again.  She  chattered  of  the  weather,  the  sea, 
the  song  sparrows,  and  he  answered  never  a 
word,  just  pushed  the  clicking  little  machine 
until  the  perspiration  stood  out  on  his  fore- 
head. 

"Now,  you  must  let  me  take  it,"  said  Ve- 
ronica. "I  didn't  mean  that  I  could  n't  do 
any  of  it.  I  just  felt  it  would  be  tiresome  to 
do  it  all." 

She  insisted,  and  the  boy  yielded  the  lawn- 
mower  to  her,  and,  standing  still,  took  out  his 
handkerchief  and  wiped  his  face. 

Veronica  pushed  the  mower  valiantly  up 
127 


THE  KEY  NOTE 


and  down  the  ground.  It  was  a  cumbrous  one 
and  somewhat  rusty.  So  the  effort  she  let  ap- 
pear was  not  all  assumed.  When  she  returned, 
the  boy  took  it  from  her  and  went  to  work 
again.  He  was  on  the  last  lap  when  Mrs. 
Lowell  and  Diana  appeared,  coming  up  from 
the  sea,  having  returned  from  their  ramble  by 
the  rocky  shore  instead  of  by  the  road.  Mrs. 
Lowell's  face  lighted  as  she  saw  what  was 
going  on,  and  she  cast  a  grateful  look  at 
Veronica  as  she  approached. 

"Good  for  you,  Bertie,"  she  said,  as  he 
at  last  dropped  the  mower  and  again  wiped 
his  hot  face.  "It  is  fine  of  you  to  help  Ve- 


ronica. ' 


He  looked  at  her  for  a  second  mutely,  and 
then  turned  away. 

"Thank  you,"  called  Veronica  as  he  moved 
off.  "I'll  bring  you  an  extra  large  piece  of 
pie  this  noon.  I  must  go  in  and  set  the  ta- 
ble now/'  she  added  to  the  others,  and  she 
winked  at  Mrs.  Lowell  who  followed  her  into 
the  house. 

"You  succeeded  better  than  I  hoped,"  said 
Mrs.  Lowell.  "Activity  is  what  that  boy 
needs." 

"I  wish  whipping-posts  had  n't  been  abol- 
ished," said  Veronica.  "I  could  see  Uncle 

128 


ANOTHER  WOUND 


Nick  tied  up  there  and  enjoy  the  activity  that 
followed." 

Then  she  told  Mrs.  Lowell  of  the  reception 
Bertie  had  given  her  and  all  he  had  said. 

Mrs.  Lowell  shook  her  head  in  silence  and 
laid  her  hand  on  the  girl's  shoulder.  "You 
can  see  we  have  work  to  do  there,"  she  re- 
plied. "We  must  not  be  discouraged." 

Diana  had  heard  the  recital.  "What  an 
extraordinary  circumstance  it  is,"  she  said, 
"that  strangers  should  be  endeavoring  to 
build  for  the  boy  while  his  next  of  kin  syste- 
matically tears  down." 

"That  is  what  I  was  telling  you, "replied 
Mrs.  Lowell.  "The  man  is  pursuing  a  system." 
She  shook  her  head  again,  and  added  as  if  to 
herself:  "But  he  cannot  defy  Omnipotence." 

It  was  probably  a  very  good  thing  for  Mr. 
Gayne  that  he  did  not  return  to-day  to  the 
noon  dinner.  The  waitress  would  have  been 
likely  to  give  him  cool  soup,  warm  water, 
and  the  undesirable  portions  of  meat  and  veg- 
etables. She  served  the  boy  with  the  best  of 
everything.  In  the  chatter  about  the  table, 
he  was  never  included,  so  his  silence  was  not 
noticeable,  but  Mrs.  Lowell  observed  the  pal- 
lor under  the  sunburn,  the  hopeless  droop 
of  the  mouth,  and  the  languid  appetite  that 
129 


THE  KEY  NOTE 


should  have  been  voracious  in  a  growing  boy 
fresh  from  exercise. 

After  dinner  she  stopped  him,  the  others 
all  having  gone  out  on  the  piazza.  He  was 
moving  toward  the  stairway. 

"Where  are  you  going,  Bertie?" 

"Upstairs."' 

"I  don't  think  we  ought  to  waste  this 
weather  in  the  house.  Do  you  ?" 

"I  don't  know." 

"Well,  I  do.  It  is  liable  to  change  any  time 
now.  We  have  had  so  much  sunshine.  We 
ought  to  make  the  most  of  it. " 

"You  go  out,  then,"  said  the  boy. 

"But  I  would  rather  you  came,  too." 

"No.  You  pity  me,  that 's  all." 

"No,"  returned  Mrs.  Lowell  quietly.  "I 
pity  your  uncle,  not  you." 

The  boy  stared  at  her,  unmoved. 

"I  pity  him  because  he  does  n't  know  how 
to  make  you  happy." 

"  You  don't  need  to  —  to  take  any  trouble, " 
was  the  stolid  reply. 

"It  isn't  a  trouble.  I  like  you.  I  like  to 
have  you  with  me.  I  went  up  to  the  farm 
this  morning — the  haunted  farm." 

"Did  —  did  you  , see  anything?" 

"Yes.  Supposing  we  go  down  to  the  beach 
130 


ANOTHER  WOUND 


and  I  '11  tell  you  about  it.  You  shall  carry  two 
cushions  for  us;  then  if  you  want  to  take  a 
nap  you  can  do  so  while  I  read." 

"I  would  rather  —  rather  be  alone." 

Mrs.  Lowell  met  his  wretched  eyes  with 
her  irresistible  smile  which  had  in  it  selfless- 
ness, love,  and  courage. 

"No,  you  would  n't,  dear  boy.  Besides,  it 
is  an  impossibility.  We  are  never  alone.  You 
know  the  Father  we  talked  about  the  other 
day,  the  One  who  showed  your  mother  how 
to  love  you.  He  is  with  us  all  the  time,  and 
no  one  and  nothing  can  separate  us  from  Him, 
no  matter  what  seems  to  be. " 

"Could  I  see  Him  if  I  — if  I  died?  Be- 
cause I  'd  like  to  —  to  die  and  see  —  my 
mother. " 

"You  will  see  her  at  the  right  time,"  said 
Mrs.  Lowell.  "You  have  a  great  deal  to  do 
for  her  first.  Were  you  going  upstairs  to 
sleep  ?  No  doubt  you  are  sleepy  after  all  that 
mowing.  It  was  very  kind  of  you  to  do  it 
for  Veronica." 

"I  didn't  do  it  for  her."  There  was  no 
stammering  in  the  declaration.  "  She  thought 
I  did,  but  I  did  n't." 

Mrs.  Lowell  smiled  again  and  nodded.  "I 
understand,"  she  said.  "I'm  sorry  I  did  n't 


THE  KEY  NOTE 


know  your  mother.  I  believe  she  would  like 
you  to  go  outdoors  with  me  now. " 

"You  don't  —  don't  need  to  —  to  have 
me.  I'm  —  I  'm  all  right. " 

Mrs.  Lowell  could  see  the  wound  throb. 

"I  know  I  don't  need  to.  I  should  think 
you  could  see  that  I  really  want  you. " 

He  hesitated  and  looked  away. 

"Now,"  she  went  on,  "I  will  go  up  to  my 
room  and  get  some  cushions  and  my  books 
and  we  will  have  a  nice  read  or  a  nice  snooze, 
and  perhaps  get  some  more  stones  for  our 
collection.  Perhaps  you  have  some  book  you 
would  like  to  bring. " 

"  I  have  n't  any  books  —  except  a  paper 


one.': 


"Bring  it,"  said  Mrs.  Lowell  with  interest. 
"I  would  like  to  see  it.  Let  us  meet  down 
here  in  five  minutes,  then. " 

She  went  up  the  stairs  and  the  boy  followed. 

When  she  came  down  again,  the  corridor 
and  living-room  were  empty.  Perhaps  the 
lad  had  decided  against  her  plan  after  all.  She 
sank  down  in  a  chair  by  the  door  and  closed 
her  eyes. 

"Dear  Father,"  she  prayed,  "Thy  will  be 
done,  and  may  my  thought  be  ever  ready  to 
separate  between  the  real  and  the  unreal. 
132 


ANOTHER  WOUND 


Let  me  not  be  discouraged  by  the  seeming, 
but  may  I  remember  every  moment  what 
Thy  will  is,  and  that  Thine  omnipotent  Love 
is  ever  present.  Let  me  reflect  Thine  intel- 
ligence and  take  my  human  footsteps  wisely. 
Let  me  know  that  Thy  Truth  will  uncover 
the  error  that  is  to  be  met,  and  that  I  cannot 
be  dismayed,  for  Thou  art  with  me,  and  un- 
derneath are  the  everlasting  arms." 

Footsteps  sounded  on  the  uncarpeted  stairs 
and  she  looked  up  and  saw  Bertie. 

"I  thought  I  wouldn't  come,"  he  said. 
"Then  I  thought  you  —  you  might  wait  — " 

"You  see  I  did,"  said  Mrs.  Lowell,  "and 
here  are  the  cushions.  Will  you  take  them, 
please  ?" 

The  boy  picked  them  up  and  they  set  forth. 

As  they  crossed  the  piazza,  Mrs.  Lowell 
nodded  to  Miss  Emerson  and  the  two  men 
with  her.  These  followed  the  pair  with  their 
eyes  as  they  descended  the  steps,  and  started 
across  the  field. 

"By  Jove,  that  young  nut  is  in  luck," 
said  Mr.  Evans,  a  short,  thick-set  man,  with 
spectacles. 

"Why,  do  you  think  Mrs.  Lowell  is  so 
attractive?"  asked  Miss  Emerson. 

"Of  course.  Don't  you  ?" 

133 


THE  KEY  NOTE 


"Why,  I  think  she  's  a  very  good-looking 
woman,"  was  the  reply.  "Her  husband  is 
coming  up  later." 

Mr.  Evans  shook  his  head  mournfully. 
"  I  'm  afraid  it  won't  make  any  difference  to 
me.  I  've  tried  to  prattle  to  her  a  little,  but 
she  does  n't  hear  me,  or,  if  she  does,  I  've  been 
weighed  and  found  wanting.  I  talked  to  her 
quite  a  while  my  first  morning  here.  As  soon 
as  I  saw  her  I  determined  to  make  hay  while 
the  sun  shone,  but  I  soon  found  I  could  n't 
make  any,  or  even  cut  any  ice  either.  So, 
since  then,  I  just  look  at  her  from  afar." 

"I  'm  sure  you  're  too  easily  discouraged," 
said  Miss  Emerson  with  some  acerbity.  "You 
underrate  your  own  attractiveness,  Mr. 
Evans.  Any  woman  who  would  rather  spend 
her  time  with  that  poor,  forlorn  image  of  a 
boy  than  with  men  of  intellect,  cannot  be 
so  very  interesting,  herself." 

Mr.  Pratt,  a  tall,  slender,  long-necked 
gentleman,  here  spoke  :  "I  judge  from  what 
Mr.  Gayne  says  that  the  boy  is  pretty  far 
gone  mentally.  He  said  he  supposed  he 
really  should  n't  have  brought  him  up  here. 
Gayne  has  a  heavy  burden  on  his  hands 
evidently.  It 's  naturally  hard  to  bring  one's 
self  to  shutting  up  any  one  who  is  your  own 

134 


ANOTHER  WOUND 


kin,  and,  as  Gayne  says,  you  're  between  the 
devil  and  the  deep  sea,  for  you  may  put  it  off 
too  long.  It  looks  like  a  case  of  dangerous 
melancholia  to  me." 

Miss  Emerson  shuddered.  "All  I  know  is 
that  if  Mrs.  Lowell  was  as  sensitive  as  I  am, 
she  never  in  the  world  could  bear  to  have  that 
boy  around  with  her  as  much  as  she  does. 
Mr.  Gayne,  an  artist  as  he  is !  What  he  must 
suffer  in  that  constant  association!" 

"He  does  n't  seem  to  be  much  with  his 
nephew,"  remarked  Mr.  Evans. 

"Well,  I  should  think  rooming  with  him 
was  enough,"  retorted  the  lady.  "He  has  a 
cot  for  the  boy  right  in  his  own  room." 

"Well,  it  is  n't  my  business,"  yawned  the 
other.  "  Come  on,  Pratt.  I  hear  they  Ve 
taken  a  horse-mackerel  and  it 's  down  on  the 
wharf.  Let  Js  go  and  see  it. " 

"Oh,  I  think  those  giant  fish  are  so  inter- 
esting!" exclaimed  Miss  Emerson,  sitting 
up  alertly. 

Mr.  Evans  nodded  at  her  over  his  shoulder 
as  the  two  friends  started  off. 

"After  your  siesta  you  ought  to  get  Miss 
Wilbur  and  come  down,"  he  said. 

"I  don't  want  any  siesta,"  thought  the 
lady  crossly.  "Why  did  I  get  into  this  ham- 

135 


THE  KEY  NOTE 


mock  ?    They  would  probably  have   asked 
me  if  I  had  n't  been  lying  down. " 

She  had  not  yet  discovered  the  domestic 
status  of  the  two  men,  although  she  had  put 
out  many  a  feeler  to  learn  whether  they  were 
unprotected  males.  She  was  wearing  one  of 
her  prettiest  dresses  since  their  arrival,  but 
the  emergency  sport  suit  of  baronet  satin 
would  not  come  forth  from  its  hanger  on 
any  such  uncertainty. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

SKETCHES 

"OuR  pebbles  are  getting  a  good  washing, 
aren't  they?"  said  Mrs.  Lowell,  when  she 
and  her  protege  had  reached  the  shore. 

The  tide  was  high  and  she  had  Bert  put  the 
cushions  in  front  of  a  rock  which  sprang  from 
the  grass  on  the  edge  of  the  stony  beach. 
He  followed  her  directions  apathetically. 

"Put  your  pillow  against  the  rock.  See, 
there  is  a  nice  slanting  place.  Perhaps  you 
will  take  a  little  nap.  The  sea  is  making  a 
rather  thunderous  lullaby.  Try  it.  I  shan't 
mind;  for  here  are  my  books  and  my  writing- 
paper  and  pencils  galore." 

The  boy  sank  down  beside  her  in  the  place 
she  indicated  and  looked  at  the  materials 
in  her  lap.  She  had  opened  a  leather  case 
and  showed  a  tablet  of  paper  fitted  at  the 
side  with  a  case  for  pencils. 

"Do  you  ever  write  letters,  Bertie  ?" 

"I  — no." 

"When  you  and  your  uncle  leave  home,  is 
there  no  one  for  you  to  write  back  to  ?" 

"There's  Cora." 

"Your  housekeeper?" 

137 


THE  KEY  NOTE 


The  boy  nodded,  his  eyes  still  on  the  books 
and  materials  in  his  friend's  lap.  She,  alert 
to  meet  any  show  of  interest  on  his  part,  took 
up  one  of  the  books. 

"Do  you  ever  read  the  Bible,  Bertie  ?" 

"I  donrt  —  no,  I  never  did." 

"  Did  n't  your  mother  ever  read  it  to  you  ? " 

The  boy  looked  up  into  her  eyes.  "Yes, 
about  the  shepherd." 

"I'm  so  glad  that  you  know  that  psalm," 
she  returned  gently.  "Can  you  say  it?  The 
Lord  is  my  shepherd?" 

He  shook  his  head,  and  again  his  eyes 
dropped  to  the  contents  of  her  lap. 

"It  is  like  a  game  of  magic  music,"  she 
thought.  "There  is  something  here  I  should 
do.  Divine  Harmony,  Divine  Love,  show 
me  what  it  is!" 

"Are  you  looking  at  this  ?"  She  took  up  the 
other  book  and  pointed  to  the  gold  cross  and 
crown  on  its  cover.  Then  she  offered  it  to  him. 

He  shook  his  head. 

"Veronica  told  me  that  your  uncle  hurt 
your  feelings  this  morning,"  went  on  Mrs. 
Lowell,  laying  the  book  down. 

The  boy's  brows  drew  together  and  his 
gaze  sought  the  ground. 

"You  know  the  Bible  is  the  most  beautiful 
138 


SKETCHES 

book  in  the  world.  It  has  hundreds  of  verses 
as  lovely  as  those  about  the  shepherd.  This  is 
one:  Like  as  a  father  pitieth  his  children, 
so  the  Lord  pitieth  them  that  fear  him.  Fear 
Him  means  fear  to  displease  Him  on  account 
of  our  love  for  Him  and  His  love  for  us." 

It  was  so  long  since  the  boy  had  heard  any 
mention  of  love  that  he  looked  up  at  her, 
still  gloomily. 

"You  know  how  unhappy  you  always  were 
when  you  displeased  your  mother,  and  you 
know  how  she  pitied  you  for  your  mistake  and 
drew  you  back  to  her  —  and  forgave  you." 

"Yes  — yes,  I  do." 

"That  is  the  way  God  does  with  us.  So  you 
see  it  is  n't  a  bad  thing  to  be  pitied  with  love. 
If  you  ever  think  again  of  what  your  uncle 
said,  just  turn  away  from  it  and  know  that 
Love  is  taking  care  of  you  every  minute.  God 
is  always  here,  waiting  to  bless  us." 

"I  'd  —  I  'd  rather  see  Him,"  said  the  boy. 

"Your  friends  are  His  messengers,"  said 
Mrs.  Lowell. 

"What  —  what  friends  have  I  ?" 

"Me,  for  one,"  replied  his  companion.  As 
she  leaned  toward  him  with  her  spontaneous 
grace,  he  met  her  affectionate  regard  with  his 
piteous  eyes. 

139 


THE  KEY  NOTE 


"Did  God  —  did  God  send  you  to  —  to 
me?" 

"I'm  sure  He  did,"  she  returned  slowly. 

"Then  —  then  can  I  —  take  one  of  your 
pencils  ?  " 

Mrs.  Lowell  looked  down  at  her  writing- 
tablet. 

"Certainly,"  she  said,  passing  the  whole 
affair  to  him. 

A  remarkable  transformation  took  place 
in  the  boy's  face.  He  took  the  folding  case 
with  its  complete  outfit  and  his  companion 
regarded  him  in  surprise.  His  eyes  lighted 
and  color  came  stealing  up  over  face  and  brow. 
He  looked  over  his  shoulder  apprehensively, 
then  back  at  her. 

"You  won't  tell  him?"  he  said. 

"Who?  Your  uncle?" 

"Yes.  He  would  beat  me." 

"Why?  Doesn't  he  like  you  to  write 
letters?" 

The  first  smile  she  had  ever  seen  on  the 
boy's  face  altered  it  now  as  he  looked  at  her, 
and  her  heart  beat  faster  in  a  mystified  sense 
that  some  cruelly  bolted  door  had  been  pushed 
ajar. 

"You  can  have  that  portfolio  for  your  own, 
Bertie,"  she  said. 

140 


SKETCHES 

"No,  no,  he'd  kill  me." 
"What  can  you  mean,  dear  child  ?" 
The  boy  started  up  from  his  cushion  and 
perched  on  top  of  the  rock,  glancing  along 
the  shore.  Mrs.  Lowell  leaned  forward   and 
saw  his  hand  with  the  pencil  move  swiftly 
here  and  there  on  the  blank  sheet.  She  said 
not  a  word,  but  watched  the  slender  young 
face  with  the  new  alertness  in  the  eyes. 

The  tide  was   making   its    splendid    slow 
retreat,  the  gulls  were  wheeling  and  crying, 
and  white  as  their  wings  the  daisy  drifts  were 
beginning  to  appear  on  the  uplands.  Activity, 
growing,  unfolding,  all  about  her,  the  watcher 
felt  this  waif  to  be  part  of  it.   One  of  God's 
little  ones  who  could  not  be  kept  in  bondage. 
At  last  the  boy  came  down  again  and  gave 
her  his  work.  She  looked  at  it  in  amazement. 
The  curve  of  the  shore,  the  groups  of  spruces, 
a  distant  cottage,  the  light  clouds  on  the  blue 
were  all  sketched  in  with  a  sure  touch. 
"Who  taught  you  this,  Bertie?" 
"Nobody — but  I  watched  my  mother. 
She  was  an  artist.  She  let  me  draw  beside  her. 
She  knew  I  could.  She  said  so.  I  '11  show  you. 
You  won't  tell?" 
"Never." 

The  boy  drew  from   his  pocket  a  small 
141 


THE  KEY  NOTE 


folded  paper.  He  took  off  the  paper  and  re- 
vealed oiled  silk.  He  unfolded  this  and  a 
small  pen-and-ink  sketch  came  to  view.  It 
was  of  a  woman's  face,  slightly  smiling. 
There  was  expression  in  the  long-lashed  eyes, 
eyes  like  the  boy's  own.  The  hair  waved  off 
the  forehead.  Bertie  held  the  treasure  for 
Mrs.  Lowell  to  see,  but  did  not  relinquish  it. 

"Is  this  your  mother?" 

"Yes."  ' 

"Who  did  it?" 

"I  did." 

"When,  Bertie,  when?" 

"After  —  afterward, "  he  answered,  and 
his  companion  could  hear  that  some  ob- 
struction stopped  his  speech. 

"It  is  very  —  very  lovely,"  said  Mrs. 
Lowell  slowly,  and  the  boy  looked  over  his 
shoulder  again,  apprehensively. 

"Did  you  say  your  uncle  forbade  you  to 
sketch?" 

The  boy  folded  the  little  picture  back  care- 
fully in  its  wrappings  and  replaced  it  in  his 
pocket. 

"Why  do  you  suppose  your  uncle  did 
that?"  asked  Mrs.  Lowell. 

"I  don't  know." 

"Don't  you  really,  Bertie?"  she  asked, 
142 


SKETCHES 

dreading  the  signs  of  dullness  she  perceived 
altering  his  face  as  the  brightness  died  away. 

"I  guess  it  was  because  he  said  it  —  it 
wasted  my  time.  He  took  everything  except 
this."  The  boy's  hand  rested  on  the  pocket 
that  held  the  treasure.  "He  did  n't  find  this. " 

"Took  what  ?  Your  materials,  your  sketch- 
ing things  ?" 

"Everything.  He  gets  very  —  very  angry 
if  I  take  a  pencil.  Twice  he  has  whipped  me 
fork." 

"But,  Bertie,  please  try  to  make  me  under- 
stand. Mr.  Gayne  is  an  artist  himself,  he  says. " 

"Yes.  He  says  he  —  has  money  enough  to 
live  and  I  have  n't.  He  says  I  just  hang  on 
him.  So  I  must  chop  wood  and  —  and  wash 
windows,  and  Cora  makes  me  scrub  the  floors. 
He  says  if  he  wants  to  waste  time  painting  he 
can,  but  I  must  not." 

Mrs.  Lowell  regarded  the  boy  closely. 
"Your  uncle  showed  me  some  very  charming 
sketches  up  at  the  farm  this  morning." 

"Did  he?"  returned  the  boy  listlessly. 
"He  never  was  an  artist  when  — when  she 
was  here." 

"That  is  strange,  isn't  it?"  said  Mrs. 
Lowell.  "  Strange  that  he  should  be  able  sud- 
denly to  do  such  good  things  ?" 

H3 


THE  KEY  NOTE 


"No,"  said  Bertie  simply.  "It  is  easy." 

They  were  both  silent  for  a  time.  The  port- 
folio lay  on  the  stones  between  them.  The 
boy  suddenly  picked  it  up. 

"I  must  tear  this,"  he  said. 

Mrs.  Lowell  caught  his  hand  just  as  he 
started  to  pull  the  sketch  from  the  tablet. 

"Won't  you  give  it  to  me,  Bertie?"  she 
asked. 

He  hesitated.  "He'll  find  it." 

"Indeed  he  will  not.  It  will  go  into  the 
bottom  of  my  trunk." 

The  boy  took  his  hand  away  and  she  re- 
covered the  portfolio.  He  had  replaced  the 
pencil  in  the  case. 

"I  should  so  like  to  give  you  the  pencil," 
she  said. 

The  boy  shook  his  head  decidedly.  "No. 
He  'd  find  it, "  he  answered. 

"I  am  very  much  interested  about  your 
mother  being  an  artist,"  said  Mrs.  Lowell. 
"You  know  you  are  going  to  do  everything 
you  can  to  please  her.  She  would  be  very 
sorry  that  your  uncle  has  not  made  you 
happy.  I  am  sure  she  wanted  you  to  use  your 
talent.  So,  very  often  we  will  take  walks  and 
I  will  get  better  materials  for  you  than  this, 
and  you  shall  make  many  sketches." 

144 


SKETCHES 

The  boy's  brows  drew  together.  It  was 
evident  that  he  was  in  such  fetters  of  fear 
that  the  prospect  was  a  mixed  pleasure. 

"Do  you  remember  your  father?  When 
did  he  die?" 

"  I  don't  know.  It  was  before  —  " 

"Was  he  a  kind  father,  and  kind  to  your 
dear  mother?" 

"I  don't  know.  Everybody  was  angry  with 
her,  all  the  rich  people,  because  she  —  she 
ran  away  to  marry  him.  Then  she  was  left 
all  —  alone  with  me  and  —  and  she  sold  pic- 
tures and  we  were  —  "  The  voice  stopped. 

"Yes,  I  know  you  were  happy.  Then  when 
she  went  away  your  uncle  took  you  ? " 

"Yes,  and  Cora." 

"And  was  n't  Cora  kind  to  you  ?" 

Bertie  shook  his  head.  "I  don't  know," 
he  said.  It  seemed  as  if  the  recollection  of  his 
uncle's  housekeeper  made  him  retreat  at  once 
into  the  protective  shell. 

"Just  let  me  ask  you  one  more  question. 
Your  Uncle  Nick  was  here  at  the  island  last 
summer.  He  did  n't  bring  you  with  him. 
Where  were  you  then  ? " 

"Home." 

"Alone?" 

"No,  with  Cora." 

145 


THE  KEY  NOTE 


"But  would  n't  Cora  like  you  to  draw  a 
pretty  picture  for  her  ? " 

"No.  She  knows  Uncle  Nick  would  hit 
her." 

"What  did  you  do  all  summer?" 

"Helped  Cora.  Then,  when  she  was  drunk, 
I  went  in  the  park.  Sometimes  I  slept  there." 

Mrs.  Lowell  shook  her  head.  "I'm  glad 
your  uncle  brought  you  this  time." 

"  Cora  would  n't  stay.  They  had  the  worst 
fight  of  all.  They  were  always  fighting." 

"Bertie,  dear,"  said  Mrs.  Lowell  tenderly, 
"try  to  know  all  the  time  that  God  is  taking 
care  of  you  and  leading  you.  We  know  He  will. 
Uncle  Nick  must  know  it,  too,  sometime." 

"Know  what?"  exclaimed  the  boy  with  a 
start. 

''That  God  takes  care  of  His  children. 
Your  uncle  is  one,  and  I  am  one,  and  you  are 
one.  We  shall  have  to  keep  some  secrets  from 
Uncle  Nick  until  he  grows  kinder  and  knows 
that  the  only  way  to  be  happy  is  to  love.  I 
should  like  to  know  your  mother's  people. " 

"Uncle  Nick  says  they  're  all  dead." 

"Do  you  know  their  name?" 

"No." 

"Think,  Bertie.  What  was  your  mother's 
name  ? " 

146 


SKETCHES 

"Helen." 

"What  else?  Can't  you  remember  —  the 
name  on  her  paintings,  perhaps?" 

The  boy  was  silent  and  his  brow  was  puz- 
zled. He  reached  into  a  pocket. 

"I  brought  my  book,"  he  said,  drawing 
forth  a  worn  and  much-thumbed  pamphlet. 

"I'm  so  glad  you  did,"  she  returned. 

He  did  not  offer  it  to  her,  but  she  looked 
over  his  shoulder  as  he  turned  the  leaves  of 
the  catalogue  of  an  exhibition  of  paintings. 

"There  are  two  of  my  mother's,"  he  said. 
He  indicated  the  small  reproductions  of  two 
landscapes  and  Mrs.  Lowell  studied  them  with 
interest. 

"I  can  see  that  they  must  be  charming," 
she  said.  "Have  you  any  of  her  pictures  ?" 

"There  was  one,"  said  the  boy,  and  he  had 
to  wait  for  a  time  before  he  could  add: 
"Uncle  Nick  sold  it." 

"Let  us  see  if  there  may  be  a  list  of  the 
exhibitors,"  said  Mrs.  Lowell.  "May  I  take 
it  a  minute  ?" 

Bertie  yielded  the  pamphlet  and  she  turned 
to  the  front  of  the  book.  Yes,  there  was  the 
list  and  her  eye  quickly  caught  the  name: 
Helen  Loring  Gayne. 

"Your  mother's  name  was  Loring,  then." 


THE  KEY  NOTE 


"It 's  my  name,  too.  Herbert  Loring  Gayne. ' ' 

"Where  did  her  people  live,  Bertie?" 

"In  Boston.  I  can  always  remember  that 
because  —  because  —  when  Uncle  Nick  is 
angry  at  what  I  —  I  do,  he  says  don't  try  any 
Boston  on  me,  and  then  —  then  I  know  he 
means  my  mother,  because  he  —  he  did  n't 
like—"  ' 

The  boy's  voice  hesitated  and  stopped. 

Mrs.  Lowell  called  his  attention  to  some  of 
the  other  pictures  in  the  pamphlet,  speaking 
of  the  artists  whose  names  were  known  to  her, 
and  he  finally  restored  his  treasure  to  his 
pocket. 

When  they  again  reached  the  Inn,  they 
found  Nicholas  Gayne  walking  up  and  down 
the  piazza.  He  came  to  the  head  of  the  steps. 

"This  is  too  much,  Mrs.  Lowell,"  he  said 
with  an  effort  at  bluff  good  nature,  "for  you 
to  burden  yourself  with  a  young  hobble-de- 
hoy  like  Bert  when  you  take  your  rambles." 

"If  I  like  it  I  suppose  you  have  no  ob- 
jections," she  returned  pleasantly.  "I  assure 
you  I  had  to  urge  him  to  accompany  me.  Too 
bad  there  are  n't  some  young  people  of  his 
own  age  here." 

"He  would  n't  know  what  to  say  to  them  if 
there  were,  would  you,  Bert?" 

148 


SKETCHES 

"No,  sir,"  was  the  reply,  and  the  boy 
started  to  go  into  the  house. 

"Here,  what  are  you  doing?"  said  his 
uncle,  catching  him  roughly  by  the  arm. 
"You  have  n't  said  good-bye  to  the  lady  after 
her  kindness  in  dragging  you  around. " 

Mrs.  Lowell  controlled  herself  to  speak 
calmly.  "  I  tell  Bert  it  would  be  a  good  thing 
for  him  to  learn  to  swim  while  he  is  here." 

"That's  the  talk!"  ejaculated  his  uncle, 
throwing  the  arm  off  as  roughly  as  he  had 
grasped  it.  "Go  in  and  win,  Bert.  I'll  get  you 
a  bathing  suit.  Show  'em  you  ain't  any  milk 
sop.  Take  the  dives  with  the  best  of  them. " 

The  boy  stood  with  his  eyes  downcast. 

"And  don't  sulk,"  went  on  his  uncle  with 
exasperation.  "For  Heaven's  sake,  don't 
sulk.  That 's  the  way  it  is,  Mrs.  Lowell,  if 
you  try  to  think  up  some  jolly  thing  for  him 
to  do,  he  stands  like  an  image.  No  more 
backbone  than  a  jellyfish. " 

"Everybody  doesn't  like  the  water,"  re- 
turned Mrs.  Lowell,  moved  now  by  the  dread 
that  the  man  might  suspect  her  influence 
and  remove  the  boy. 

"Well,  how  did  you  like  the  farm?"  he 
pursued. 

"What  a  pleasant  place  it  is,"  she  re- 
149 


THE  KEY  NOTE 


turned,  seating  herself  on  the  piazza  rail. 
"No  wonder  you  like  to  spend  time  there.  I 
have  n't  forgotten  those  charming  sketches 
you  showed  me,  either." 

Gayne  made  a  clumsy  bow.  'You  flatter 
me,"  he  said.  "I  make  no  claims." 

The  lady  looked  down  on  the  garden  border. 

"The  sweet  peas  look  thirsty,  Bertie,"  she 
said.  "  Let 's  water  them. " 

The  boy  followed  her  in  silence  to  where 
the  coiled  hose  lay,  and  his  uncle  looked 
after  them,  a  thoughtful  frown  gathering  on 
his  dark  brow. 


CHAPTER  IX 

A   WORKING   PLAN 

MRS.  LOWELL  knocked  for  admittance  at 
Diana's  door  that  evening,  and  entering 
found  the  girl  sitting  at  the  little  desk  she  had 
added  to  Miss  Burridge's  furnishings,  sur- 
rounded by  books  and  papers. 

"Is  it  an  inopportune  time?"  asked  the 
caller,  hesitating. 

Diana  rose  smiling.  "That  can  never  be 
for  you, "  she  replied. 

"Thank  you,  dear  child.  I  am  so  full,  I  long  to 
talk  to  you.  You  may  havea  helpful  suggestion." 

"I  shall  be  pleased  to  act  as  your  confi- 
dante. Sit  here,  Mrs.  Lowell.  I  was  just 
writing  my  mother  how  fortunate  I  am  in  the 
fact  that  you  are  here.  I  encounter  a  good 
deal  of  difficulty  in  persuading  my  mother 
that  I  am  not  in  a  desert  place  and  am  not 
doing  penance.  I  am  very  desirous  of  restrain- 
ing her  from  coming  to  see  for  herself.  I 
should  be  aghast  at  the  prospect  of  taking 
care  of  her  and  her  maid  here.  Yet,  when  I 
pile  up  superlatives,  she  decides  that  I  have 
fallen  in  love  with  an  Indian  and  is  increas- 
ingly disturbed." 


THE  KEY  NOTE 


The  girl  looked  very  pretty  in  the  peach- 
colored  negligee  she  was  wearing,  its  precious 
laces  falling  over  Miss  Burridge's  cheap  chairs 
and  matting,  and  her  thick  bright-brown  hair 
in  disorder. 

"Oh,  tell  her  he  is  n't  an  Indian;  tell  her 
he  is  a  Viking. " 

Diana's  serene  gaze  did  not  falter,  though 
her  color  rose. 

"I  do  not  mind  your  badinage,"  she  re- 
turned, "for  when  I  fall  in  love,  it  is  going 
to  be  with  a  supremely  unattractive  man  ex- 
ternally. I  shall  be  the  only  woman  who 
knows  and  understands  his  charm,  then  other 
women  will  not  infringe  my  rights.  After  you 
hear  Mr.  Barrison  sing,  you  will  understand 
that  in  his  career,  women  will  bow  before  him 
like  flowers  in  an  irresistible  gust  of  wind. 
I  cannot  imagine  a  worse  fate  for  a  girl  than 
to  share  that  career;  the  more  brilliant  it 
might  be,  the  more  crushing  to  her  hap- 
piness. But  this  interview  is  getting  turned 
about.  I  was  to  be  the  confidante,  not  you. " 

"Then  this  is  my  tale,  my  dear,"  said  Mrs. 
Lowell.  "I  have  discovered  who  did  those 
sketches  Mr.  Gayne  showed  us  this  morning. " 

"Then  you  were  right,  and  they  were  not 
his  own?" 


A  WORKING  PLAN 


"Bertie's  mother  did  them,  and  he  inherits 
her  talent:  this  poor  child  whom  the  man  is 
trying  to  blot  out  of  normal  life. " 

"What  makes  you  certain?'* 

"  Because  he  did  one  before  my  eyes  down 
by  the  shore  to-day,  with  a  swift,  sure  touch, 
and  that  thin,  sad  face  of  his  lighted  till  he 
looked  like  a  different  being.  His  parents 
are  dead.  His  mother  was  an  artist.  He 
worked  with  her.  As  soon  as  she  left  the 
child,  his  uncle  forbade  him  to  draw,  and  took 
all  his  materials  away  from  him,  whipped 
him  if  he  found  a  pencil  in  his  possession. 
Those  sketches  we  saw  were  done  either  by 
the  boy  or  his  mother.  There  is  no  doubt  of  it. 
She  eloped  with  his  father,  estranging  her 
family  from  her.  She  was  a  Loring  of  Bos- 
ton." 

Diana  regarded  the  speaker  with  admira- 
tion. "How  wonderful  for  you  to  obtain  so 
much  information  from  such  a  source." 

"Oh,  it  was  little  by  little,  of  course.  I 
told  him  his  uncle  had  shown  us  some  good 
sketches  and  asked  him  if  it  was  not^strange 
that  Mr.  Gayne  could  do  them,  taking  up  the 
art  so  late  in  life;  for  it  seems  he  took  it  up 
only  as  Bertie  laid  it  down;  and  the  boy's 
reply  was  significant.  He  said:  'Oh,  no,  it 

153 


THE  KEY  NOTE 


is  easy.'  He  seemed  to  have  no  suspicion, 
but  then  he  has  n't  life  or  interest  enough 
to  harbor  suspicion.  He  just  endures. " 

Mrs.  Lowell  went  on  to  tell  of  Cora  and  the 
drudgery  of  the  boy's  dull  and  dulling  ex- 
istence, and  her  listener's  eyes  lost  their 
customary  serenity. 

"It  must  not  be,"  said  the  girl  at  last,  as 
her  companion  ceased.  "Have  you  made  a 
diagnosis  ? " 

"I  only  feel  that  the  'root  of  all  evil'  must 
be  at  the  bottom  of  it, "  replied  Mrs.  Lowell. 
"The  Old  Nick,  as  Veronica  calls  him,  must 
believe  there  is  money  to  be  secured,  and 
that  if  he  can  only  prove  that  his  nephew  is 
incompetent,  he  can  gain  charge  of  it.  Ber- 
tie toldmethat  his  mother's  peoplewere  rich." 

"Of  course,  then,  that  is  the  key;  but  it 
does  not  explain  what  the  man  is  doing  with 
pickaxe  and  shovel  up  at  my  farm." 

"Your  farm,  my  dear?" 

"Perhaps,"  said  Diana  carelessly.  "But 
that  is  not  interesting  us  now.  Mrs.  Lowell, 
I  adore  the  unselfishness  which  has  caused 
you  to  give  your  time  to  this  boy.  I  have 
tried  to  converse  with  him,  but  his  lack  of 
responsiveness  seems  to  obscure  the  clarity 
of  my  mental  processes.  I  wish,  however,  to 

154 


A  WORKING  PLAN 


have  a  hand  in  his  salvation.  The  thing  to  do 
now,  it  appears  to  me,  is  to  discover  this 
Loring  family.  That  will  take  money  and  I 
will  supply  it." 

"My  dear  Miss  Diana!" 

"Drop  the  Miss,  please.  I  feel  honored  by 
your  friendship.  Do  you  know  of  a  good 
lawyer?" 

"My  husband  is  a  lawyer." 

"Then,  please,  ask  him  to  proceed  at  once.'* 

The  girl's  dignity  and  beauty  added  charm 
to  the  sense  of  power  in  an  emergency  which 
money  sometimes  gives.  "It  is  galling  that 
we  cannot  take  the  boy  away  from  that 
brute  immediately, "  she  added. 

"Oh,  we  must  be  so  careful,"  exclaimed 
Mrs.  Lowell.  "Rather  than  let  us  do  one 
thing  to  clear  and  brighten  Bertie's  mind 
his  uncle  would  send  him  off  the  island.  We 
must  not  show  dislike  or  suspicion;  and  God 
will  guide  us  in  the  footsteps  we  must  take. 
He  is  taking  care  of  the  child  now,  ^through 


us.': 


"Really,  Mrs.  Lowell,  your  faith  is  very 
beautiful,"  said  Diana. 

"  Everybody  should  have  it.  Why  go  alone 
while  the  Bible  is  right  there  with  its  marvel- 
ous promises  ?  God's  children  are  not  puppets 

155 


THE  KEY  NOTE 


pulled  by  wires,  and  so  people  complain  that 
the  promises  are  not  kept.  We  are  made  in 
His  image  and  likeness,  tributary  only  to 
Him  —  every  good  thing  is  possible  to  us  if 
we  turn  toward  Him  instead  of  away  from 
Him." 

"Mr.  Gayne  appears  to  have  turned 
away,"  said  Diana  dryly. 

"Yes,  he  made  me  shudder  this  after- 
noon when  he  talked  of  Bertie's  learning  to 
swim.  It  was  as  if  he  hoped  it  might  be  the 
child's  end." 

Diana  shook  her  head.  "He  does  n't  want 
that." 

"No,  so  I  consoled  myself  afterward,  but 
his  malignant  spirit  bursts  forth  in  spite  of 
him  occasionally. " 

Mrs.  Lowell  rose  and  the  girl  followed  her 
example.  The  older  woman  approached  and 
placed  her  hands  on  Diana's  shoulders. 

"I  thank  God,"  she  said,  "for  your  co- 
operation. I  will  write  to  my  husband  to- 
night." 

"  Is  he  as  • —  as  religious  as  you  are  ? " 

"Not  perhaps  in  the  same  way.  He  does 
not  see  quite  as  I  do,  but  he  is  a  good  man 
and  loves  everything  good."  Some  recollec- 
tion made  the  speaker  smile.  "I  try  his  soul 

156 


A  WORKING  PLAN 


at  times  by  not  doing  what  he  calls  minding 
my  own  business.  For  instance,  once  I  saw  a 
young  fellow  at  an  elevated  station  in  New 
York,  dazed  by  drink.  I  was  in  haste  and  on 
an  important  errand,  but  I  could  n't  take 
my  train  and  leave  him  there.  So  I  went  and 
sat  down  beside  him  and  asked  him  where  he 
was  going.  He  said,  to  the  Brooklyn  ferry, 
but  he  was  thick  and  helpless.  I  called  a 
little  colored  boy  carrying  a  large  milliner's 
box,  and  I  asked  him  if  his  errand  needed  to 
be  done  immediately.  He  was  pretty  doubt- 
ful, but  he  finally  said  no.  So  I  told  him  I 
would  check  his  box  and  leave  a  dollar  with 
it  for  him  when  he  returned,  if  he  would  take 
this  young  man  straight  to  the  Brooklyn 
ferry  and  see  that  he  did  not  go  in  anywhere 
on  the  way.  He  said  he  would  do  so,  and  I 
gave  him  his  check  and  car  fare  and  some 
nickels  for  telephoning,  and  asked  him  to 
call  me  up  that  evening.  I  wrote  my  tele- 
phone number  and  left  it  with  the  box.  He 
promised,  and  my  train  came  along  and  I  had 
to  leave  them.  About  six  o'clock  that  after- 
noon, the  telephone  rang.  It  was  my  mes- 
senger. He  said  that  when  he  got  the  young 
man  downstairs  to  go  to  the  train  for  the 
ferry,  his  charge  became  violently  sick.  After 

157 


THE  KEY  NOTE 


that,  he  came  to  himself  and  gave  a  different 
direction  to  the  boy.  The  address  of  an  office 
building.  He  was  pale  and  shaky.  So  the 
boy  stayed  with  him.  They  went  up  in  an  ele- 
vator and  into  an  office  where  the  young  man 
said  that  he  had  brought  the  money.  They 
sent  for  some  one  from  another  office,  and  to 
this  person  the  young  man  gave  a  roll  of  a 
thousand  dollars. 

"Of  course,  I  was  quite  excited,  and  happy 
over  this  news,  and  I  thanked  my  messenger 
and  said:  *See  what  God  has  helped  us  to  do 
to-day.  That  young  man  might  have  been 
robbed,  and  would  have  been  suspected  of 
theft  by  his  employer  and  lost  his  character 
and  his  position.'  My  husband  was  sitting 
near  by,  reading  the  paper,  and  he  looked  up 
and  said:  'Who  on  earth  are  you  talking  to  ?' 
I  just  answered:  'A  little  darky  boy!'  and 
went  on,  while  my  husband  stared.  When  I 
told  him  the  whole  story,  he  laughed  and 
shook  his  head.  'Hopeless,'  he  said,  'hope- 
less.' He  is  quite  conservative,  and  he 
would  like  me  to  stay  in  the  beaten  track." 

"That  was  fine, "  said  Diana.  "Mr.  Lowell 
will  be  in  sympathy  with  this  case,  I  hope, 
and  undertake  it  with  his  whole  heart.  I  am 
going  to  give  you  a  check  to  send  him  as  a 

158 


A  WORKING  PLAN 


retainer.  Then  he  will  know  that  this  is  a 
serious  business  matter." 

The  girl  sat  down  at  her  desk  and  wrote  the 
check  and  Mrs.  Lowell  took  it  thankfully. 
She  went  to  her  room  and  wrote  her  letter. 
In  due  time  she  received  a  reply. 

Dear  One, 

I  see  you  have  again  ceased  minding  your  own 
business  and  I  am  really  very  proud  of  you  in 
spite  of  your  obstinacy.  I  thought  in  the  wilds  of 
Casco  Bay,  you  might  get  away  from  responsi- 
bilities for  awhile,  but  I  might  have  known  that, 
unless  I  set  you  adrift  on  an  iceberg,  you  would 
find  some  lame,  or  halt,  or  blind,  to  succor. 
Even  then,  I  think  the  iceberg  would  melt  at  your 
presence,  and  in  short  order  you  would  be  down 
among  the  mermaids  explaining  to  them  that  it 
was  error  to  get  out  on  the  rocks  to  do  their  hair 
and  sing  to  sailors. 

Your  story  is  very  interesting,  and  while  I  be- 
lieve that  Boston  is  as  full  of  Lorings  as  it  is  of 
beans,  Miss  Wilbur  has  made  it  possible  to  ring 
every  Loring  doorbell  and  ask  down  which  steps 
ran  the  eloping  daughter.  Rest  assured,,  as  her 
lawyer  I  shall  do  my  best  in  this  affair.  Owing  to 
Mr.  Wilbur's  prominence  in  the  public  prints, 
his  connections  are  pretty  well  known,  and  I 
thought  I  associated  Herbert  Loring,  the  rail- 
road president,  with  him.  I  suppose  Miss  Wilbur 
would  have  told  you  if  there  were  anything  in 
that. 

The  remainder  of  the  letter  dealt  with  dif- 
159 


THE  KEY  NOTE 


ferent  subjects,  and,  when  Mrs.  Lowell  had 
finished  it,  she  hastened  to  her  friend,  and 
put  her  question. 

"I  will  send  my  father  a  telegram  at  once, " 
responded  the  girl. 

That  form  of  speech  was  not  strictly 
accurate,  as  it  was  rather  an  elaborate  oper- 
ation to  send  a  telegram  from  the  island. 
However,  it  was  finally  accomplished.  This 
was  the  message  to  her  father: 

Have  you  any  friends  named  Loring?  Have  we 
any  relatives  or  connections  by  marriage  of  that 
name? 

DIANA 

The  day  after  the  girl  had  given  her  check 
to  Mrs.  Lowell,  Bertie  Gayne  was  not  seen 
about  the  Inn  all  the  morning.  At  dinner- 
time he  returned  with  his  uncle.  Mr.  Gayne' s 
manner  was  disarmingly  bluff  and  hearty.  He 
had  a  cheerful  word  for  everybody.  The 
boy's  silent  manner  and  uninterested  look 
were  just  as  usual.  Mrs.  Lowell  managed  to 
catch  his  eye  once  or  twice,  but  he  gave  no 
sign  of  understanding. 

The  horse-mackerel  were  running  and  the 

island  population  was  all  excited.   The  taking 

of  one  of  the  huge  fish  was  an  event,  and  very 

,  lucrative  for  the  captors.  The  talk  of  the 

1 60 


A  WORKING  PLAN 


table  was  all  on  this  subject,   and  Nicholas 
Gayne  entered  into  it  with  zest. 

After  dinner  everybody  went  out  in  front 
of  the  house  to  view  the  telltale  disturbances 
in  the  waters  of  the  bay,  where  numerous 
small  boats  were  hanging  about  awaiting 
their  opportunity.  Veronica  eagerly  joined 
the  watchers  as  soon  as  she  was  at  liberty. 

"Let  us  walk  down  nearer  the  water," 
proposed  Diana. 

Mr.  Gayne's  field-glasses  were  being  handed 
about,  and  she  was  afraid  they  would  be  of- 
fered to  her.  So  she  and  Veronica  moved 
down  across  the  field  and  seated  themselves 
on  the  grass  against  a  convenient  rock. 

"Where  do  you  think  Bertie  was  this  morn- 
ing?" she  asked. 

"Uncle  took  him  off  with  him." 

"Up  to  the  farm?" 

"I  suppose  so.  Mr.  Gayne  seems  to  think 
that  farm  might  get  away  if  he  did  n't  see  it 
for  twenty-four  hours." 

"I  wonder  if  he  will  not  be  wishing  to 
purchase  it  one  of  these  days, "  said  Diana. 

"  I  'd  buy  some  clothes  for  Bert  first  if  I 
was  in  his  place.  Everything  the  boy  has 
seems  to  have  been  bought  for  his  little 
brother. " 

161 


THE  KEY  NOTE 


"Did  you  ever  read  'Nicholas  Nickleby,' 
Veronica?" 

"Yes,  I  have."  The  younger  girl  looked 
around  brightly.  "I  know  who  you  're  think- 
ing of — Smike.  I've  thought  of  Smike  ever 
since  they  came." 

Diana  received  her  look  with  a  smile.  One 
touch  of  nature  made  them  kin  for  the  mo- 
ment, and  Diana,  all  unconscious  of  her  com- 
panion's mental  reservations,  did  not  know 
that  at  this  moment  she  was  nearer  than  she 
had  ever  been  to  being  forgiven  for  her  va- 
rious^perfect  ons. 

"All  my  childhood,"  said  Diana,  "I  used  to 
wish  I  could  have  done  something  for  Smike. " 

"  I  've  wished  that,  too, "  said  Veronica. 

"Now  we  have  an  'opportunity, "  returned 
Diana.  "You  are  young  and  sportive  and 
you  made  a  good  beginning." 

"Oh,  I  did  —  not,"  returned  Veronica. 
"You  might  as  well  try  to  sport  with  a 
hearse.  Everything  you  say  to  him  he  turns 
his  eyes  on  you  all  darkened  up  with  those 
lashes,  regular  mourning,  and  you  don't 
know  where  to  look,  yourself,  nor  what  to 
say.  Yes,  I  did  want  to  help  Smike,  but  so 
long  as  the  law  won't  let  us  string  Mr.  Gayne 
up  somewhere,  lots  of  times  I  wish  they  'd 

162 


A  WORKING  PLAN 


gone  to  some  other  island.  Is  n't  it  a  pity  he 
has  n't  got  spunk  enough  to  run  away  ?  Even 
Smike  ran  away." 

"I  am  glad  this  boy  is  not  inclined  to  do 
that,"  returned  Diana,  "for  I  feel  that  he 
has  friends  here  and  that  something  good 
should  come  of  his  summer. " 

"Not  if  Mr.  Gayne  can  help  it,"  declared 
Veronica.  "He  was  afraid  Mrs.  Lowell  was 
giving  Bert  too  good  a  time  with  these  walks 
and  talks."  She  nodded  her  head.  "Believe 
me,  that  is  the  reason  — 

"Well,  we  have  found  you,"  said  a  voice 
behind  them.  It  was  a  voice  which  made 
color  steal  up  into  Diana's  cheeks.  The  girls 
both  looked  around  quickly. 

Philip  Barrison  was  approaching,  and  with 
him  a  shorter  man.  Both  were  bareheaded. 

"The  blarney  stone!"  thought  Veronica. 
She  had  been  wondering  when  Mr.  Barrison 
would  bring  him,  and  now  she  gave  him  what 
she  herself  would  have  described  as  the 
"once-over"  as  he  smiled  at  Diana  and  lifted 
his  hand  to  his  tightly  waved  hair  in  salute. 

What  Veronica  saw  caused  her  to  lift  her 
hand  to  the  bridge  of  her  nose  and  cover  its 
small  proportions  with  two  fingers,  from  both 
sides  of  which  her  round  eyes  gazed  seriously. 


CHAPTER  X 

NICHOLAS   GAYNE  CONFIDES 

"ARE  you  interested  in  the  horse-mackerel, 
too?"  asked  Diana. 

The  two  men  sat  down  on  the  grass  near 
the  girls  as  Barney  Kelly  answered:  "Mod- 
erately, Miss  Wilbur.  Moderately  interested. 
Being  allowed  to  witness  anything  from  terra 
firma  invests  it  with  a  certain  charm.  Bar- 
rison  has  been  merciless,  I  assure  you,  simply 
merciless." 

"The  man  came  here  to  fish,"  said  Philip, 
"and  I  Ve  only  tried  to  be  hospitable." 

"Deep-sea  fishing,"  groaned  his  friend. 
"If  you  ever  hear  any  tenderfoot  express  am- 
bitions to  go  deep-sea  fishing,  tell  him  to  see 
me  if  possible,  otherwise  write  or  wire  me 
before  he  embarks. " 

"Did  you  find  the  motion  disconcerting?" 
asked  Diana. 

Barney  looked  at  Philip.  "Don't  you  think 
I  might  admit  as  much  as  that?" 

Philip  laughed  and  bit  the  red  clover  he 
had  pulled  from  a  bunch  near  him. 

"First,"  said  Kelly,  "you  are  waked  at  an 
hour  when  all  men  should  sleep;  then  you 

164 


NICHOLAS  GAYNE  CONFIDES 

are  forced  to  eat  at  a  time  when  your  soul 
rebels  at  such  outrage;  after  that,  you  go 
aboard  beneath  the  stars,  and  you  chug,  chug, 
miles  into  the  darkness;  but  the  chug-chug- 
ging you  soon  find  to  be  the  best  part  bf  it 
for  when  you  arrive  midway  between  here 
and  Liverpool,  you  anchor.  The  sky  and  the 
sea  begin  to  get  hopelessly  mixed  up.  Why 
should  I  try  to  describe  the  writhings  of  all 
nature!  They  put  a  heavy  rope  into  your 
hands,  it  slides  through  your  fists  and  removes 
the  skin  before  any  one  remembers  that  you 
have  no  gloves  on.  Oh,  let  Dante  try  I  I 
can't!" 

Philip  laughed.  "Then  I  took  him  out 
next  day  to  the  pound  and  let  him  help 
draw  the  net." 

"The  smell  of  that  boat,  Miss  Wilbur!" 
Kelly's  eyes  rolled  fiercely. 

"I  'm  afraid  you  won't  like  the  island," 
volunteered  Veronica,  who,  when  she  laughed 
had  forgotten  her  nose  and  dropped  her  hand. 

"My  dear  Miss  Trueman,  how  can  I  tell, 
when  I  am  never  allowed  to  stay  on  it  ?  This 
man,  when  he  could  n't  think  of  anything 
else  hydraulic  to  do,  has  made  me  go  in  bath- 
ing in  water  at  a  temperature  which  no 
humane  person  will  credit  when  I  tell  them. 
165 


THE  KEY  NOTE 


To-day,  I  struck.  I  said  to  him,  do  for 
Heaven's  sake  do  something  to  show  that 
you  are  at  least  amphibious.  So  he  consented 
to  bring  me  up  here  to  meet  his  friends,  and 
I  shall  be  pleasantly  surprised  if  you  young 
ladies  don't  turn  into  mermaids  right  before 
my  eyes,  as  they  do  in  the  movies,  and  pop 
off  that  beach  into  the  water. " 

Veronica  giggled  so  joyously  that  the 
speaker  turned  away  from  Diana's  serene 
smile  and  regarded  her.  "I  assure  you,"  he 
added  slowly  and  solemnly,  "that  if  you  do, 
I  shall  not  follow  you.  So  if  you  wish  the 
pleasure  of  my  society  you  won't  unfold  any 
graceful,  glittering  tails." 

Veronica  giggled  again,  and,  if  she  had 
only  known  it,  her  dimples  were  warranted 
at  any  time  to  divert  attention  from  those 
afflicting  little  freckles. 

"I  can  see  that  Kelly  will  be  fruit  for  you, 
Veronica,  on  that  croquet  ground,"  said 
Philip. 

The  guest  clasped  his  hands  rapturously. 
"Do  you  guarantee,  Miss  Veronica,  that 
croquet  at  this  island  is  unfailingly  played 
on  land?" 

"Hold  on,  Barney,  don't  go  too  fast;  it's 
the  kind  of  croquet  you  play  with  an  alpen- 

166 


NICHOLAS  GAYNE  CONFIDES 

stock  in  one  hand  and  a  mallet  in  the  other. " 

"  It  is  not,  Mr.  Barrison, "  declared  Veronica 
stoutly.  "Bert  has  mowed  it." 

"That  poor  little  chap  ?  Did  you  work 
him  in  ?  Good  for  you.  It's  what  he  needs." 

"When  are  you  going  to  have  Mr.  Barrison 
sing  for  us,  Mr.  Kelly?"  asked  Diana. 

Barney  shrugged  his  shoulders.  "A  poor 
worm  of  an  accompanist  can't  answer  that, 
Miss  Wilbur." 

"But  I  suppose  you  will  be  practicing,  or 
rehearsing  at  times,  will  you  not?" 

"Yes.  I  understand  there  is  a  piano  in  the 
little  Casino  that  was  pointed  out  to  me.  I 
understand  —  eh,  Barrison  ?" 

Philip  nodded.  "Yes,  they  have  allowed 
me  to  engage  an  hour  a  day  on  that  piano 
for  a  while,  for  some  work  we  have  to  do. " 

Diana's  face  lighted  beautifully.  "And 
may  one — may  one  sit  on  the  piazza?" 
she  asked  beseechingly. 

"I  should  advise  one  not  to,"  said  Philip, 
"unless  one  has  been  inoculated  for  strong 
language." 

"I  should  not  in  the  least  mind  what 
you  said." 

"But  you  would  what  Barney  says,  at 
times." 

167 


THE  KEY  NOTE 


"The  verdure  about  the  hall  is  free,"  said 
Diana  doubtfully. 

"Yes,  if  you  don't  mind  a  baseball  in  the 
eye  once  in  a  while.  That  is  where  the  boys 
do  congregate. " 

"He  's  a  most  ungrateful  ass  —  Barrison," 
said  Barney  warmly.  "Of  course  you  shall 
sit  on  the  piazza,  if  you  care  about  it.  I  prom- 
ise to  restrain  my  penchant  for  calling  him 
pet  names  in  private.  I  have  to  do  it,  you 
see,  to  strike  a  balance.  At  performances, 
who  so  meek  as  the  accompanist!  Barrison 
stands  there,  dolled  up  in  his  dress-clothes, 
probably  a  white  carnation  in  his  button- 
hole; the  women  down  front  gazing  at  him 
and  ruining  their  best  gloves.  I  gaze  at  him, 
too, "  —  Kelly  looked  up  with  meek  wor- 
ship, —  "like  a  flower  at  the  sun,  waiting  for 
the  sultan  to  throw  the  handkerchief,  or,  in 
other  words,  give  me  a  careless  nod,  indicat- 
ing that  I  may  come  to  life.  At  last  he  does 
so,  and  I  begin  to  play  —  subserviently,  un- 
ostentatiously. Very  few  in  the  house  know 
that  I  am  there.  He  reaches  his  climax,  he 
finishes  with  a  pianissimo  that  curls  around 
all  the  women's  hearts,  draws  them  out  and 
strings  them  on  a  wire  before  him.  Then  the 
applause  bursts  forth.  He  bows  over  and 

168 


NICHOLAS  GAYNE  CONFIDES 

over  again,  until  he  looks  like  a  blond  man- 
darin, and  I  rise,  but  nobody  knows  it,  and 
when  he  has  passed  me  on  his  way  off  the 
stage,  I  come  to  heel  like  a  well-trained  dog, 
and  —  there  we  are!" 

As  Kelly  finished  his  harangue  with  a  ges- 
ture of  both  hands,  the  [girls  were  laughing 
and  Diana  was  quite  flushed. 

"What  a  fool  you  are,  Barney,"  said  Philip 
calmly,  still  biting  the  honey  out  of  the  red 
clover.  "He  plays  like  a  house  afire,"  he 
added,  turning  to  the  girls.  "You  will  be 
delighted." 

"Oh,  yes,"  said  Kelly.  "On  the  road  I  get 
a  group.  I  play  the  Chopin  and  Grieg  things 
that  the  girls  practice  at  home,  and  they  get 
out  their  vanity  cases  and  [prink  and  wait 
for  Barrison  to  come  on  again. " 

"Oh,  cut  it  out,  you  idiot!"  exclaimed 
Philip,  jumping  up.  "I  don't  believe  they  're 
going  to  get  one  of  those  mackerel.  Let's 
amuse  little  Veronica  and  go  up  and  have 
a  game  of  croquet. " 

Meanwhile  Mr.  Gayne  had  again  taken  his 
nephew  with  him  to  the  farm. 

"In  spite  of  all  I  say,"  he  told  the  boy, 
"you  will  bother  those  ladies  at  the  Inn.  So 
if  you  come  along  with  me,  I  '11  know  where 

169 


THE  KEY  NOTE 


you  are."  And  the  lad  answered  him  not 
at  all,  but  plodded  up  the  road. 

He  did,  however,  think  of  some  of  the 
things  Mrs.  Lowell  had  said  to  him.  Some 
of  the  love  and  courage  that  emanated  from 
her  gave  him  a  novel  certainty  that  he  was 
not  altogether  friendless,  and  the  wild  roses 
that  began  to  peep  at  him  from  the  roadside 
suggested  the  idea  that  she  would  like  it  if  he 
brought  some  home  to  her.  In  the  idle  hours 
of  the  afternoon  he  might  gather  some,  and 
some  of  the  myriad  daisies  and  Indian  paint- 
brush that  decked  the  fields.  But  his  heart 
sank  at  the  prospect  of  what  his  uncle  would 
say  if  he  attempted  to  carry  back  a  bouquet 
when  they  returned. 

Gayne  forbade  the  boy  to  enter  the  house 
when  they  reached  their  destination,  just  as 
he  had  done  in  the  morning.  So  Bertie,  his 
hands  in  his  pockets,  wandered  about  the 
surrounding  fields  and  in  the  spruce  groves, 
and  picked  up  the  shells  the  crows  had  drop- 
ped and  emptied.  Once  he  found  a  ridge  of 
grass  unusually  long  and  green,  and  heard  a 
whispering,  and  investigating  found  a  narrow 
brook  which  murmured  as  it  flowed.  He  fol- 
lowed along  its  bank  until  he  came  to  the 
cove  it  had  named,  and  watched  the  sparse 

170 


NICHOLAS  GAYNE  CONFIDES 

stream  cascade  over  the  granite  and  fall  thinly 
down  its  steep  wall.  The  wet  rock  glistened 
in  the  sun,  it  seemed  to  the  boy  as  if  with 
tears.  He  threw  himself  down  beside  it  and, 
leaning  on  his  elbow,  rested  his  head  on  his 
hand.  Through  the  cut  between  this  island 
and  the  next,  boats  were  passing  coming  in 
from  the  foaming  waves  of  the  sea  to  the 
quiet  waters  of  the  sound.  Life,  beauty, 
peace.  The  boy  closed  his  eyes.  The  longing 
to  portray  it  all  rose  in  him  like  an  anguish. 
He  felt  his  old  torpidity  to  be  better  than 
this.  Why  should  his  new  friend  stir  up  a 
craving  for  the  impossible  ?  She  meant  to  be 
kind.  She  seemed  really  to  like  him;  and  she 
had  liked  his  drawing  and  had  wanted  him  to 
do  more.  She  would  find  that  it  was  impos- 
sible, and  he  hoped  that  she  would  make  no 
more  effort.  He  squeezed  his  eyelids  together  to 
keep  back  stinging  drops.  He  felt  shame  at 
his  own  weakness.  Uncle  Nick  had  said  he 
had  no  more  backbone  than  a  jellyfish  and 
he  felt  this  was  true.  He  had  no  physical 
strength  to  defend  himself,  none  to  take  his 
fortunes  into  his  own  hands,  as  he  felt  most 
boys  would  do,  run  away  and  do  something 
to  keep  himself  from  starvation. 

For  years  he  had  been  fed  as  an  animal 
171 


THE  KEY  NOTE 


might  have  been  fed :  at  any  hour  that  suited 
Cora,  and  with  anything  she  might  happen 
to  have  in  the  house.  He  was  undernourished, 
neglected,  crushed,  and  spiritless.  He  de- 
spised his  weakness  as  much  as  his  uncle  de- 
spised him,  and  he  was  conscious  that  it  was  a 
new  estimate  of  himself  that  he  was  now  mak- 
ing, an  estimate  due  to  the  awakening  of 
thought  that  had  come  to  him  through  that 
lady  who  meant  to  be  kind.  He  felt  very 
bitterly  toward  her  as  he  lay  there,  his  eyes 
closed  to  the  loveliness  of  sea  and  sky. 

He  had  lain  there  half  an  hour  when  Matt 
Blake  came  across  from  the  road  and  passed 
near  him. 

"Poor  youngster,"  he  thought.  "I  guess 
it 's  true  he  ain't  all  there. "  The  feeling  that 
the  boy  was  not  capable  of  responding  kept 
him  from  calling  out  some  sort  of  greeting  as 
he  passed,  and  he  went  on  through  the  spruce 
grove  to  the  farm-house.  "Hello  the  house," 
he  called. 

"That  you,  Blake?"  came  from  within. 
"Yes,  I  'm  out  here  at  the  back.  Come  in." 

The  carpenter  made  his  way  through  to  the 
studio,  and  there  Nicholas  Gayne  rose  from 
an  armchair  to  meet  him,  and  swayed  slightly 
as  he  stood. 

172 


NICHOLAS  GAYNE  CONFIDES 

"You  sent  for  me,"  said  Blake,  regarding 
the  other's  red-rimmed  eyes. 

"Yes,  and  you  '11  be  glad  I  did  when  you 
see  this,  eh,  old  man  ?" 

Gayne  lurched  toward  the  screen  and  took 
a  bottle  from  behind  it,  and  held  it  out 
triumphantly.  "Kind  o'  dizzy  'cause  I  been 
asleep  and  you  waked  me  sudden.  'T  was  the 
shock,  you  see,  the  shock."  He  lurched  back 
toward  the  table  where  there  was  a  glass.  He 
filled  this  half-full  and  offered  it  to  his  caller. 
"It 's  the  real  thing,  the  real  thing,"  he  said. 

"I  smell  that  it  is,"  returned  Blake  dryly. 
"That 's  too  stiff  for  me.  No,  no,  Gayne, "  he 
added  as  the  latter  started  to  raise  it  to  his 
own  lips,  and  he  took  the  glass  from  him, 
"you  've  had  too  much  now.  If  you  want 
anything  of  me,  tell  me  while  you  've  got 
sense  enough  to  talk." 

"You  insult  me,  Blake,"  said  the  other 
with  dignity.  "I  m  a  gentleman  and  I  know 
when  I  've  had  enough,  and  I  know  when  I  've 
had  too  much.  Some  folks  never  know  that, 
but  I  do." 

The  carpenter  regarded  him  impassively, 
and  set  the  bottle  and  glass  out  of  his  reach. 
"Now  go  ahead.  Tell  me  what  you  want." 

"Want  you  to  shingle  the  kitchen  so  's  I 


THE  KEY  NOTE 


can  —  can  cook  there.  Come  and  I  '11  show 
you. "  He  opened  a  door  in  the  studio  which 
led  into  a  damp  room  where  the  rain  had 
fallen  unmolested.  "Want  you  to  shingle 
this  room." 

"Nothing  doing,"  said  the  carpenter. 

"  You  won't  say  that  when  I  show  you  what 
I  've  got  here. "  Gayne's  speech  was  thick  and 
he  took  Blake's  arm  and  led  him  across  to 
a  large  covered  stone  crock  sitting  on  a  bench. 
"Home  brew,  Matt.  Home  brew.  We  can 
have  many  a  cozy  evening  here  when  this 
gets  into  shape." 

"  Going  to  keep  a  horse  ? "  asked  the  car- 
penter, lifting  up  what  appeared  to  be  a 
nosebag. 

"No,  no,  that's  strainer.  You  leave  it  to 
me,  Matt.  I  '11  give  you  something  '11  make 
your  hair  curl.  All  you  got  to  do  is  shingle — " 

"You  ain't  going  to  pay  for  having  some- 
body else's  property  shingled  ?" 

"'T  ain't  going  to  be  somebody  else's. 
Going  to  be  mine.  I  'm  going  to  buy  the  farm. 
There  's  a  fortune  on  it."  The  speaker's  legs 
were  planted  far  apart  to  preserve  his  equi- 
librium, but  even  at  that  he  swayed  so  far 
toward  his  visitor  that  Blake  put  up  his  hand 
to  hold  him  off. 

174 


NICHOLAS  GAYNE  CONFIDES 

"Which  have  you  found,  gold  or  oil  ?"  he 
asked,  laughing. 

His  host  assumed  an  impressive  dignity. 
" Not  gold,  not  oil.  Spring." 

"A  spring  ?  Of  course  you  have.  They  're 
all  over  the  lots.  You  'd  better  patronize  'em, 
too.  You  certainly  need  to  put  more  water 
in  it." 

"I'm  goin'  tell  you  secret,  Blake,"  said 
Gayne. 

"Better  not,"  said  the  carpenter  good- 
naturedly. 

"Coin'  tell  you.  I  've  found  mineral  spring 
here." 

"That  so  ?"  was  the  unperturbed  reply. 

"Great  and  won- wonderful  water.  Don't 
tell  anybody." 

"All  right." 

"Had  chemist  'zamine  it.  Says  it's  got 
everything  in  it  to  cure  you.  Fortune  in  it. 
Fortune.  You  don't  b'lieve  me." 

"Sounds  a  little  fishy,"  remarked  Blake. 

"Lemme  take  your  arm  —  I'll  lead  you 
to  it." 

The  visitor  supplied  the  arm  and  Gayne's 
heavy  weight  hung  upon  it.  They  went  out  of 
doors  and  Gayne  stopped  and  looked  around 
cautiously.  "Where's  that  brat  ? "  he  demanded. 

175 


THE  KEY  NOTE 


"Do  you  mean  the  boy?  He's  over  there 
by  the  cove.  Asleep,  I  think." 

"Then  come  on.  Can't  trust  him  'cause 
they  're  the  kind  that  speak  the  truth.  Fools, 
you  know.  Can  trust  you,  Blake.  Trust  you 
anywhere. " 

"Thank  you,"  returned  the  visitor  dryly. 

At  some  distance  from  the  house,  in  a  hol- 
low overhung  with  rocks,  the  heavy  weight 
on  Matt's  arm  became  heavier  and  Gayne 
pushed  away  some  turf  and  stones  with  his 
foot,  disclosing  a  puddle  of  dark-colored 
water.  He  stooped  and,  picking  up  a  rusty 
tin  cup,  half-filled  it,  and  presented  it  to 
his  companion  whose  arm  he  released. 

"There,  if  you  don't  b'lieve  me!"  he  said 
triumphantly. 

The  carpenter  accepted  the  cup  doubt- 
fully and  smelled  of  it.  "Phew!"  he  exclaimed 
with  a  grimace. 

"'Course,"  said  the  other.  "Sulphur. 
Won'ful  sulphur  spring.  Cure  you  of  ever'- 
thing.  Had  it  an'lyzed.  Drink  it." 

Blake  took  a  cautious  sip. 

"Tell  you,  Matt,"  said  Gayne,  speaking 
slowly  and  nodding  with  tipsy  solemnity, 
"  't  was  m'  guardian  angel  guided  me  to  that 
spring. " 

176 


NICHOLAS  GAYNE  CONFIDES 

The  carpenter  glanced  at  him  with  dis- 
favor. "One  sniff  's  enough  to  convince  any- 
body o'  that,"  he  remarked.  "At  that,  it 's 
better  for  you  than  the  stuff  you  've  got  in 
there  on  the  table.  Now,  look  here,  Gayne, 
you  're  going  to  be  sorry  to-morrow  you  told 
me  about  this  — " 

"Wouldn't  tell  anybody  else,"  vowed 
Gayne,  solemnly,  seizing  h-is  companion  by 
the  arm  and  pushing  back  the  concealing 
turf  and  stones  with  his  foot.  "Nobody  else 
on  this  earth.  Fools  own  the  farm  put  up  the 
price  if  they  knew. " 

"But  what  I  was  going  to  say  is  you  need 
n't  be  sorry, "  went  on  Blake.  "  I  'm  not  going 
to  tell  a  soul.  I  don't  want  to  be  mixed  up  in 
your  affairs,  but  do  you  think  you  can  under- 
stand if  I  talk  to  you  ?" 

"Un'stand  !  Well !"  exclaimed  Gayne. 
"I  'm  a  man  o'  brains  I  '11  have  you  know." 

"Well,  if  you  Ve  got  any,  use  'em  now," 
said  Blake  impatiently.  "There  ain't  any 
money  in  a  mineral  spring  unless  you  've 
got  piles  o'  dough  to  put  it  on  the  market. 
Don't  you  know  that  ? " 

"I  sh'd  say  so, "nodded  Gayne,  triumphant 
again.  "That 's  just  what  I'm  goin'  to  have: 
piles  o'  dough.  Bushels." 
177 


THE  KEY  NOTE 


"Where  are  you  goin'  to  get  it  ?" 

"Well,  I'll  tell  you,  Matt,  'cause  you  're 
a  good  friend  and  you  know  how  to  hold  your 
tongue.  That  boy  out  there,  that  poor  num- 
skull is  the  heir  to  a  big  enough  fortune  to 
f 'nance  twenty  springs." 

"He  is?"  returned  Blake,  astonished. 
"What  do  you  mean  ?" 

''His  grandfather  is  one  of  the  richest  men 
in  Boston.  Went  to  see  him  once.  Took  my 
proofs  with  me.  Would  n't  look  at  'em.  Turned 
me  out.  He 's  sick  as  the  devil.  Always 
travelin'  'round  tryin'  to  get  well.  I  would  n't 
—  I  would  not  give  him  one  cup  o'  this 
water."  Gayne  gestured  impressively  as  he 
made  the  ferocious  declaration.  "Just  come 
home  from  Europe  now.  Saw  it  in  the  paper," 
he  added. 

"Then  he  '11  leave  his  money  where  it 
won't  do  you  any  good,"  said  Blake. 

"I  '11  break  the  will.  I  Ve  thought  it  all 
out.  I  'm  a  man  o'  brains.  Bert  '11  get  the 
money. " 

"Perhaps  the  boy  won't  want  to  spend  it 
on  springs." 

A  crafty  change  came  over  Gayne's  face 
and  he  smiled.  "He  won't  have  any  say.  I'm 
his  guardian,  ain't  I  ?  And  he  's  non  compos, 
178 


NICHOLAS  GAYNE  CONFIDES 

ain't  he  ?  He  '11  be  put  where  he  belongs, 
believe  me." 

"You'll  shut  him  up,  do  you  mean?" 
asked  Blake,  frowning. 

"F'r  his  own  good.  You  understand?" 

"Your  guardian  angel  suggested  that  to 
you,  too,  probably." 

"Prob'bly  did,  Matt,"  was  the  pious 
reply.  "If  all  his  kind  was  shut  up  there 'd 
be  less  crime  in  the  papers.  I  put  it  off  and 
put  it  off,  but  I  ought  to  do  it  and  do  it  soon. " 

The  carpenter  regarded  the  speaker  in 
silence  for  some  moments.  Gayne's  eyes  were 
closing  and  opening  sleepily. 

"Now,  see  here,  man.  You  go  in  the  house 
and  sleep  this  off.  I  '11  take  the  boy  down- 
along  with  me. " 

"I  won't  allow  it,"  Gayne  shook  his  head. 
"Women  at  the  house  pamperin'  him.  I 
won't  have  it.  He  '11  stay  where  I  am  till 
I  get  him  settled  for  life." 

"I  'm  goin'  to  take  the  boy  along  with  me," 
repeated  Blake,  speaking  louder.  "You  're 
in  no  state  for  him  to  see  you.  Where  'd  you 
get  your  stuff,  anyway?" 

"Chemist  p'esc'iption, "  said  Gayne,  as  his 
companion  drew  him  along  at  as  swift  a  pace 
as  possible. 

I7Q 


THE  KEY  NOTE 


"Well,  next  time,  drink  out  o'  your  own 
mud  puddle.  I  think  it  comes  from  the  lower 
regions,  anyway.  You  might  as  well  be  get- 
ting used  to  it." 

Gayne  laughed,  but  rather  feebly.  He  was 
beginning  to  wonder  just  what  he  had  said 
to  his  friend. 

Matt  got  him  into  the  house  and  into  the 
lop-sided  armchair  where  he  had  found  him, 
and  he  fell  asleep  at  once.  Then  the  carpenter 
took  the  partly  filled  glass  from  the  table  and 
held  it  up  to  the  light. 

"I'd  like  it,"  he  mused,  "but,  by  thunder, 
that  loafer 's  worse  'n  a  temperance  lecture. " 
And  he  threw  the  whiskey  out  of  an  open 
window. 

The  bottle  he  placed  behind  the  screen; 
then,  with  one  last  disgusted  look  at  his  host, 
whose  head  was  hanging  sideways  with  the 
mouth  open,  he  left  the  house. 


CHAPTER  XI 

THE   NEWPORT  LETTER 

BLAKE  went  back  through  the  grove  of  firs  to 
the  cove  bank  and  there  he  saw  the  boy 
again.  He  had  sunk  down  on  his  back  and, 
as  Blake  approached,  appeared  to  be  asleep. 
The  man  stooped  over  him. 

"Hello,  kid,"  he  said. 

As  the  boy  did  not  move,  Matt  shook  him 
gently  by  the  shoulder.  Bert  jumped  up  with 
a  start. 

"I  didn't  —  didn't  hear  you,"  he  said. 
Then,  looking  up  and  seeing  that  it  was  a 
stranger,  he  got  to  his  feet. 

"Does  —  does  Uncle  Nick  want  me  ?"  he 
asked. 

Blake  shook  his  head.  "No,  he's  busy. 
You  better  go  down  the  road  with  me." 

"He  told  me  —  told  me  to  wait  for  him," 
said  the  boy. 

"Well,  he  does  n't  want  you  now.  He  wants 
you  to  go  along  with  me.  I  've  just  left 
him." 

Upon  this  the  boy  followed  obediently, 
and  they  walked  together  over  the  field  to  the 
181 


THE  KEY  NOTE 


road.  Blake  occasionally  looked  at  the  un- 
smiling young  face  as  he  cogitated  on  Gayne's 
plans  for  the  lad. 

"Like  it  pretty  well  here  ?"  he  asked. 

"No  —  yes  —  I  don't  know,"  was  the 
answer. 

The  delicacy  and  refinement  of  the  boyvs 
face,  and  the  utter  hopelessness  of  it,  stirred 
his  companion,  as  he  considered  the  one  he 
had  left  in  the  tattered  armchair.  They  walked 
on  in  silence  until  they  had  nearly  reached 
the  little  island  cemetery.  Then  the  boy's 
long  lashes  lifted.  He  seemed  to  be  gazing 
at  the  shafts  and  headstones. 

"Uncle  Nick  says  the  —  the  ghosts  don't 
have  far  to  walk, "  he  remarked. 

The  carpenter  put  his  hand  on  Bert's 
shoulder.  "Stuff  and  nonsense,"  he  said. 
"You  ?re  too  big  a  boy  to  believe  that  foolish- 


ness.': 


The  dark  eyes  regarded  him.  "That 's 
what  Mrs.  Lowell  says.  She  says  God  takes 
care  of  us." 

The  carpenter  nodded.  "That's  right," 
he  returned  emphatically.  "  I  hope  He  's  got 
His  eye  on  you  right  now  and  will  see  you 
through.  You  tie  to  Mrs.  Lowell  and  you 
believe  what  she  says." 
182 


THE  NEWPORT  LETTER 


"Uncle  Nick  does  n't  want  me  to.  He  says 
I  'm  —  I  'm  better  off  alone. " 

"You  're  the  best  judge  of  that,  I  should 
say,"  remarked  Matt  bluntly.  "We're  all 
entitled  to  life,  liberty,  and  the  pursuit  of 
happiness.  I  hope  you  '11  get  'em,  kid.  Stand 
up  for  yourself.  Do  you  like  Mrs.  Lowell?" 

"I  —  I  don't  know.  —  It  is  n't  any  use  for 
me  to  --to  like  her.  Uncle  Nick  does  n't." 
They  began  to  pass  hedges  of  wild  roses. 
"She  likes  —  likes  flowers,"  added  the  boy. 

"Take  her  some,  that 's  right,  take  her 
seme,"  said  Blake,  stopping  and  going  to  the 
side  of  the  road. 

"You  won't  tell  Uncle  Nick?"  said  Bert 
anxiously. 

"No,  blast  him,  I  won't  tell  him.  Here, 
I  've  got  a  knife.  They  know  how  to  defend 
themselves  all  right,  don't  they  ?" 

Bert  gathered  some  of  the  flowers,  amaz- 
ingly large  and  deep  of  color  they  were,  and 
Matt  cut  more,  and  a  charming  bunch  was 
in  the  boy's  hand  at  last.  Blake  noted  that 
the  sight  of  it  brought  color  into  the  pale  face. 

"This  must  be  another  secret,"  said  Bert. 
"Mrs,  Lowell  and  I  have  some  already." 

They  plodded  on  again. 

"That's  right,"  said  Blake.  "Hold  'em 
183 


THE  KEY  NOTE 


tight.  That  Mrs.  Lowell  and  Miss  Wilbur 
are  friends  worth  having,  I  'm  thinking. "  The 
man  frowned  at  his  own  thoughts.  The  creed 
of  the  island  had,  as  its  first  article:  Mind 
your  own  business.  Matt  wished  he  could  go 
to  Mrs.  Lowell  and  pour  out  to  her  all  he 
had  learned  this  afternoon,  but  had  his 
pledged  word  not  prevented,  his  own  habit 
and  training  would  have  made  it  difficult. 

When  they  reached  the  field  which  divided 
the  road  from  the  Inn,  Blake  parted  from  the 
boy,  who  started  off  for  home  with  his  prize. 
He  stumbled  over  the  knolls  while  looking 
at  the  blossoms,  and  inhaling  their  delicious 
fragrance. 

When  he  had  nearly  reached  the  house,  he 
met  the  quartette  of  croquet  players,  the 
girls  escorting  the  men  to  the  road. 

Veronica  and  Barney  Kelly  came  first  and 
Diana  and  Philip  followed. 

"Oh,  how  lovely,  Bertie!"  exclaimed  Ver- 
onica, stopping  and  stooping  the  five  sun- 
kisses  to  smell  deep  of  the  roses. 

"They  are  not  —  they  are  not  for  you," 
said  the  boy  hastily. 

"You  Ve  no  taste,  then,"  said  Kelly,  while 
Veronica  laughed.  "Have  you  a  better  girl 
than  this  one  ? " 

184 


THE  NEWPORT  LETTER 


Bertie  pushed  on  in  nervous  haste,  and 
Diana's  smile  did  not  detain  him. 

"Not  for  you  either,  apparently,"  re- 
marked Philip. 

"No,"  said  Veronica.  "I'm  good,  Miss  Wil- 
bur is  better,  but  his  best  girl  is  at  home  on 
the  porch. " 

There  the  boy  found  her,  and  luckily  alone. 
He  advanced  holding  out  his  gift  without  a 
word.  She  colored  with  pleasure  as  she  ac- 
cepted it,  holding  it  in  one  hand  and  caress- 
ing it  with  the  other  as  from  time  to  time  she 
took  the  sweet  breath  of  the  roses. 

"Thank  you  so  much,  Bertie!"  she  ex- 
claimed. "It  must  have  taken  you  a  long 
time  to  gather  so  many." 

"No  — he  had  a  knife." 

"Who,  your  uncle?" 

"No  —  Mr.  Blake.  Uncle  Nick  mustn't 
know.  You  won't  tell  him  ? " 

"No,  dear  child,  I  won't  tell  him."  She 
looked  in  the  boy's  face  for  a  reflection  of  her 
own  pleasure,  but  there  was  none.  He  re- 
mained standing. 

"Sit  down,  Bertie,  you  have  had  a  long 
walk." 

He  did  so  with  some  reluctance.  "This  is 
the  last — last  time  I  '11  sit  with  you, "  he  said. 
185 


THE  KEY  NOTE 


"Are  you  going  away?"  she  asked,  much 
concerned. 

"No,  but  —  but  Uncle  Nick  doesn't  — 
does  n't  want  me  to  speak  to  you — and  you 
make  me  sad." 

"How  do  I  make  you  sad,  Bertie?" 

"Talking  about  —  about  things,"  he  said 
vaguely.  "If  I  don't  think  and  don't  talk, 
then  —  then  it 's  better.  Uncle  Nick  says  so 
and  —  and  I  —  it  is  so. " 

"Very  well,  Bertie,"  returned  Mrs.  Lowell 
quietly.  "All  I  want  is  what  is  best  for 
you. " 

He  looked  at  her  sweet  face  with  the  affec- 
tion in  the  eyes.  She  was  wearing  a  white 
dress  and  the  blossoms  were  a  roseate  glow 
against  it.  He  struggled  against  all  that  he 
blindly  felt  she  represented:  all  he  had  lost, 
all  that  would  have  kept  the  present  and  the 
future  from  being  blank.  His  face  suffused 
with  color,  his  eyes  with  tears. 

"I  can't  bear  it!"  he  said  suddenly,  with 
more  force  than  she  had  supposed  was  in  him, 
and  rising  with  an  energy  of  movement  that 
sent  his  chair  over  with  a  crash,  he  fled  into 
the  house. 

Mrs.  Lowell  bent  her  head  over  the  flowers 
for  minutes,  and,  when  she  raised  it,  there 

1 86 


THE  NEWPORT  LETTER 


was  dew  upon  them.  She  looked  off  a  moment 
in  thought,  then  rose,  went  into  the  house  and 
upstairs  to  the  Gayne  room.  The  door  was 
ajar.  She  could  hear  the  boy  sobbing.  Enter- 
ing, she  saw  him  stretched  on  his  cot,  and  she 
approached,  drawing  a  chair  beside  it. 

Seating  herself,  she  put  a  hand  on  his 
tightly  doubled  arm  and  looked  at  the  averted, 
dark  head,  its  face  buried  in  the  pillow. 

She  spoke  to  him  quietly:  "Bertie,  I  am 
going  to  do  just  as  you  plan  and  not  ask  you 
to  go  about  with  me  any  more,  but  I  want 
you  to  remember  all  the  time  that  I  love  you 
and  am  thinking  of  you,  and  knowing  that 
better  times  are  coming  for  you.  No  human 
being  can  have  as  much  power  over  us  as  God 
has.  He  is  n't  going  to  forget  His  own  chil- 
dren whom  He  has  created.  So  the  more  you 
think  about  Him,  knowing  that  He  is  all- 
powerful  and  all-loving,  the  sooner  you  will 
feel  His  help  coming  to  you.  We  don't  know 
just  how  or  when,  but  be  sure  it  will  come 
if  you  won't  listen  to  discouragement.  Dis- 
couragement is  like  a  cloud  that  hides  the 
sun,  and  God  is  the  sun  of  the  whole  universe. 
You  are  trying  to  hide  away  from  Him  when 
you  weep  and  let  thoughts  of  grief  and  de- 
spair come  in." 

187 


THE  KEY  NOTE 


Her  voice  carried  through  the  nervous,  dry 
sobs,  and  they  lessened  as  she  talked.  When 
she  finished,  the  dark  head  lay  still  on  the 
pillow.  She  patted  the  thin  arm. 

"Now  I  will  leave  you,  Bertie,"  she  went 
on.  "Try  to  think  about  the  Shepherd.  'The 
Lord  is  my  shepherd,  I  shall  not  want.'  Say 
that  over  and  over  to  yourself,  and  know  that 
it  is  true.  Some  day  all  these  things  that 
seem  barriers  to  everything  that  you  feel 
makes  life  worth  living,  will  melt  away. 
Think  about  it,  and  be  hopeful,  dear  child. 
Remember  I  am  in  the  house  when  you  want 
me,  and  remember  that  I  love  to  help  you. 
Good-bye,  dear." 

She  stooped  over  the  averted  face  and  kissed 
the  boy's  temple.  Then  she  passed  out  and 
down  the  stairs. 

The  answer  to  Diana's  telegram  came 
from  her  mother,  and  read  as  follows : 

Your  father  away  on  the  yacht.  Be  cautious 
socially.  No  Loring  relatives  or  friends  in  this 
country.  Letter  follows. 

The  letter  did  follow  with  great  prompt- 
ness. It  was  the  old  story  of  the  worried  hen 
who  had  hatched  a  duck. 

1 88 


THE  NEWPORT  LETTER 


My  dear  child: 

You  say  you  are  feeling  very  well  again,  sleep- 
ing soundly  and  eating  with  good  appetite.  Then 
do  come  home  at  once.  I  have  submitted  to 
your  wild-goose  chase  because  the  doctor  ap- 
proved, and  it  was  evidently  working  well,  but  I 
have  n't  really  had  an  easy  minute  since  you 
left.  When  you  said  that  even  taking  a  maid  with 
you  would  make  you  nervous,  and  I  allowed  you 
to  go  off  to  a  strange  island  quite  alone,  I  put  a 
great  constraint  upon  myself.  Your  wire  shows 
me  that  you  are  encountering  some  of  the  circum- 
stances which  I  feared,  and  which  will  lead  to 
future  embarrassment.  Some  people  areevidently 
trying  to  claim  acquaintance  or  even  relation- 
ship with  our  family.  I  wired  you  that  there  were 
no  Lorings  connected  with  us  in  this  country.  It 
was  an  odd  coincidence  that  just  after  I  sent  the 
message  to  you,  I  picked  up  a  newspaper  and 
saw  that  Herbert  Loring  had  returned  from 
Paris  and  was  staying  at  the  Copley-Plaza.  I  am 
quite  certain  he  has  not  emigrated  to  your 
island.  So  my  message  is  true  enough.  He  is  a 
distant  cousin  of  your  father's  and  though  not  an 
old  man  is  a  very  broken  one,  owing  to  family 
troubles.  Seeing  his  name  in  the  paper  brought 
up  sad  memories  and  made  me  thankful  for  a 
good,  conscientious  daughter  who  will  always 
remember  what  is  due  her  family,  and  now, 
when  you  are  thrown  among  ordinary  people, 
such  as  you  have  never  come  in  contact  with,  is 
a  good  time  to  speak  of  such  a  tragedy.  Mr. 
Loring's  only  child  was  a  daughter,  a  pretty, 
artistic  girl  of  whom  he  was  inordinately  proud 

189 


THE  KEY  NOTE 


and  fond.  She  became  infatuated  with  a  man 
whom  her  father  forbade  her  even  to  see.  She 
eloped  with  him.  Oh,  the  agony  she  caused 
that  father,  who  had  lost  his  wife  years  before.  Of 
course,  he  did  the  only  thing  possible  in  such  a 
case  —  forbade  her  name  to  be  mentioned.  He 
became  very  ill,  and,  as  soon  as  he  was  con- 
valescent, gave  up  business  and  went  abroad.  He 
has  spent  all  the  years  since  —  about  fifteen,  I 
think — in  traveling  about,  trying  to  recover  his 
health  and  divert  his  mind.  Now  the  poor, 
weary  man  has  come  back  again.  I  am  wondering 
if  he  will  open  his  house.  He  is  wealthy,  and,  if 
his  health  is  restored,  he  may  do  so  and  take  up 
life  again.  I  am  sure  your  father  will  wish  to 
communicate  with  Mr.  Loring  as  soon  as  he  re- 
turns from  his  cruise.  Perhaps  the  lonely  man 
will  accept  an  invitation  to  visit  us. 

I  think  it  a  grave  question  whether  the  artistic 
temperament  does  not  furnish  more  sorrow  than 
joy  to  the  world.  I  am  proud  and  thankful  that 
I  have  a  daughter  to  whom  an  infatuation 
would  be  an  impossibility.  Come  back,  Diana, 
if  you  feel  strong  enough.  I  promise  to  preserve 
you  from  gayety  if  you  wish  me  to  do  so.  I  do  not 
feel  at  all  easy  about  you.  Please  write  and  set  a 
date  for  coming,  explaining  also  all  that  lay  be- 
hind your  wire.  Your  affectionate 

MOTHER 

By  the  time  Diana  finished  reading  this 
letter,  her  hands  were  trembling. 

She   hurried   to   Mrs.    Lowell's    room.  A 
190 


THE  NEWPORT  LETTER 

rather  stifled  voice  bade  her  enter.  Her 
friend  was  stooping  over  the  washstand  bath- 
ing her  eyes.  Her  face,  as  she  looked  up 
through  the  splashing,  showed  an  April  smile. 

"I  knew  it  was  you,"  she  said.  "I  recog- 
nized the  step,  and  I  knew  you  would  n't 
mind  discovering  that  I  cry  once  in  a  while." 

"My  dear  Mrs.  Lowell,  I  'm  sorry  for  what- 
ever distresses  you." 

"Oh,  it  is  just  that  dear  talented,  wretched 
boy.  I  could  n't  help  weeping  a  few  little 
weeps;  but  what  happy  thing  has  happened 
to  you,  my  dear?"  she  added,  catching  the 
excitement  in  the  girl's  face.  She  dried  her 
own  finally,  and  came  forward  and  Diana 
put  the  letter  into  her  hands. 

They  both  stood  in  silence  until  Mrs .  Low- 
ell had  finished  reading  and  looked  up.  Her 
cheeks  were  as  flushed  as  Diana's,  and  they 
exchanged  a  radiant  gaze  and  then  sat  down. 

"One  always  weeps  too  soon,"  said  Mrs. 
Lowell  at  last. 

"I  was  thinking,"  said  Diana,  looking  off, 
"that  it  might  be  a  good  plan  for  me  to  go  to 
Mr.  Loring  myself." 

:'You  good  girl!  Do  you  know  him  ?" 

"Not  at  all,  but  any  one  can  go  to  the  Cop- 
ley-Plaza, and  I  can  tell  him  I  am  his  cousin. " 
191 


THE  KEY  NOTE 


"You  're  a  precious  child.  When  had  you 
thought  of  going  ? " 

"  Immediately, "  said  Diana,  with  recovered 
serenity. 

"  Shall  I  go  to  Boston  with  you  ? " 
"  It  will  not  be  necessary,  I  think. " 
"But  your  mother  would  prefer  it,  I  am 
sure.  Yes,  I  see  that  I  should  go, "added  Mrs. 
Lowell,  casting  a  glance  at  the  rich  station- 
ery in  her  hand  with  its  heading  "Idlewild, 
Newport,  R.  I. "  She  could  feel  the  probable 
disapproval  of  this  move  which  Mrs.  Wilbur 
would  feel. 

Nicholas  Gayne  did  not  come  back  to  the 
Inn  to  supper  that  afternoon.  Bertie  came 
to  the  table  expecting  his  uncle  would  be 
there  and  not  daring  to  absent  himself,  but 
he  showed  the  effect  of  his  unwonted  out- 
burst in  such  extra  pallor  and  lassitude  that 
Veronica  was  moved  to  give  him  her  choicest 
offerings.  Mrs.  Lowell  thought  it  best  for  his 
calm  not  to  take  any  notice  of  him,  but  she 
and  Diana  found  it  difficult  to  control  the 
excitement  that  beset  their  hearts  as  they 
looked  at  him:  the  drooping  bird  in  the 
cage  of  a  cruel  and  neglectful  master,  the  key 
that  would  unlock  its  door  almost  in  their 
hands. 

192 


THE  NEWPORT  LETTER 


The  next  morning  they  took  the  early  boat 
from  the  island,  leaving  word  that  [they  were 
going  to  Boston  for  a  few  days.  Miss  Bur- 
ridge  gave  them  their  coffee  and  toast  and 
bade  them  God-speed,  little  reckoning  how 
appropriate  was  the  prayer  for  them. 


CHAPTER  XII 

COUSIN  HERBERT 

ARRIVED  at  the  hotel  in  Boston,  an  inquiry 
for  Herbert  Loring  revealed  that  he  was 
still  there,  but  indisposed  and  not  seeing 
visitors. 

In  the  suite  Diana  engaged,  the  two  friends 
discussed  ways  and  means,  and  it  was  decided 
that  Diana  should  write  a  note  to  the  invalid 
and  make  herself  known. 

My  dear  Mr.  Loring   (she  wrote), 

I  might  perhaps  call  you  Cousin  Herbert,  for  I 
believe  my  father,  Charles  Wilbur,  claims  relation- 
ship, and,  if  you  grant  me  permission,  I  certainly 
shall  do  so.  I  believe  you  and  my  father  had  time 
to  see  something  of  one  another  before  steel  swal- 
lowed him  up  and  you  became  absorbed  in  rail- 
roads. My  mother  is  at  our  cottage  in  Newport, 
and  is  wondering  whether  you  could  be  induced  to 
visit  us  when  Father  returns  from  a  cruise  he  is 
taking.  I  am  here  in  the  hotel  for  a  short  time,  and 
would  like  very  much  to  call  on  you  if  there  is 
some  half-hour  when  you  would  feel  like  seeing  a 
relative,  even  though  you  could  not  grant  a  sim- 
ilar privilege  to  an  outsider.  I  shall  be  so  glad  if 
you  can  allow  me  to  make  your  acquaintance.  It 
would  be  a  satisfaction  to  my  parents  to  hear  from 
you  by  word  of  mouth.  My  mother  saw  by  the 
papers  that  you  were  back  in  this  country  and  she 

194 


COUSIN  HERBERT 


wrote  me  of  it.  I  have  been  on  one  of  the  islands 
in  Casco  Bay  where  one  gets  very  near  to  Nature's 
heart:  the  best  thing  that  can  happen  to  a  tired 
schoolgirl. 

Kindly  let  me  hear  from  you,  and  I  shall  be 
grateful  if  you  will  see  me.  After  all,  though  we 
are  strangers,  blood  is  thicker  than  water! 
Yours  cordially 

DIANA  WILBUR 

"This  is  most  extraordinary,  upon  my 
word,  it  is  most  extraordinary, "  was  Herbert 
Loring's  comment  when  he  had  read  this 
communication.  His  words  might  have  been 
addressed  to  thin  air  or  to  Marlitt,  his  man; 
and  Marlitt  knew  by  experience  that  it  was 
well  not  to  appropriate  them  until  he  had 
received  some  further  hint.  So  he  stood  at 
attention  and  looked  with  interest  at  the 
view  from  an  opposite  window. 

His  employer  was  a  haggard  man,  with  a 
white  mustache  and  gray  hair.  He  was  im- 
maculately groomed  and  was  seated  in  a  re- 
clining chair,  his  feet  supported  on  the  foot- 
rest.  He  wore  a  rich  dressing-gown  of  gray 
silk.  One  noticed  that  his  left  arm  was  never 
raised,  but  with  his  right  hand  he  now  stroked 
his  mustache.  There  were  pouches  under  the 
eyes  he  lifted  to  his  valet. 

"  Here  is  a  schoolgirl  in  the  hotel  who  wants 

195 


THE  KEY  NOTE 


to  come  to  see  me;  says  she  's  my  cousin. 
I  'm  a  nice  figure  to  receive  a  schoolgirl. " 

Marlitt  raised  his  eyebrows.  "You  are 
certainly  in  shape  to  receive  anybody,  sir. 
But  this  young  lady?  May  she  be  an  im- 
postor, sir?" 

"No.  I  think  not. "  Marlitt  perceived  that 
the  note  was  an  agreeable  incident.  "She 
says  she  is  the  daughter  of  Wilbur,  the  Phila- 
delphia steel  man.  It 's  odd  that  they  should 
not  have  forgotten  me." 

"Begging  your  pardon,  sir,  I  think  if  you 
were  not  so  determined  to  deny  yourself  to 
friends,  you  would  find  that  no  one  who  had 
once  known  you  would  have  forgotten." 

The  sick  man  glanced  back  at  the  note  in 
his  lap.  It  escaped  him  on  the  slippery  silk 
and  he  made  an  involuntary  effort  with  the 
useless  arm  to  recover  it.  He  frowned,  and 
Marlitt,  stooping  quickly,  picked  up  the 
sheet  and  restored  it.  The  invalid  read  the 
letter  once  again. 

"Send  word  to  this  young  lady  that  I  will 
see  her  at  three-thirty  to-day,"  he  said  at 
last. 

With  much  rejoicing,  Diana,  when  she  had 
received  this  word,  arrayed  herself  for  the  call. 
She  wore  a  thin  gray  gown  with  a  rose  at  the 
196 


COUSIN  HERBERT 


girdle,  and  Mrs.  Lowell,  regarding  her  with  ad- 
miration, thought  no  one  could  be  better 
equipped  externally  to  win  the  fastidious 
masculine  heart. 

Herbert  Loring  thought  so,  too,  when  at 
the  appointed  hour  she  entered  his  room,  and 
he  received  a  swift  impression  of  her  fine 
quality. 

"Welcome,  my  little  cousin,"  he  said  as  he 
met  her  eyes  and  the  serene  and  charming 
smile  irradiating  her  youthful  beauty.  "  I  am 
a  useless  hulk;  can't  get  out  of  this  chair  with- 
out help.  So  you  will  pardon  me. " 

She  put  her  hand  in  the  one  he  offered,  and 
Marlitt  placed  a  chair  beside  him  in  such 
fashion  that  she  faced  him. 

"That  makes  it  the  more  gracious  of  you 
to  receive  me,"  she  replied. 

"I  should  never  have  known  what  I  missed, 
had  I  refused,"  he  said  gallantly.  "My 
friend  Wilbur  has  a  very  beautiful  daughter. " 

Marlitt  disappeared  into  the  next  room, 
and  Diana  blushed. 

"Even  in  spite  of  sunburn  ?"  she  said. 

"I  was  really  touched,  Cousin  Diana,  that 
your  parents  should  remember  me  suffi- 
ciently for  you  to  take  the  trouble  to  come 
to  see  me.  It  is  a  long  time  since  anything  has 

197 


THE  KEY  NOTE 


pleased  me  so  much.  I  have  been  such  a  rover 
that  I  am  a  stranger  in  my  own  land. " 

Diana  had  not  expected  to  feel  guilty  of 
false  pretences,  but  this  speech  accused  her 
even  while  it  lent  her  increased  courage,  since 
his  was  a  heart  that  could  be  touched. 

"I  hope  you  will  visit  us,"  she  said,  "after 
I  return  to  Newport." 

"Are  you  on  your  way  there  now  ?" 

"No,  not  quite  yet.  It  is  difficult  to  tear 
one's  self  away  from  Casco  Bay  after  one 
once  falls  under  the  spell." 

Loring  nodded.  "I  know  the  environment. 
Very  piney  and  fresh  and  all  that.  Cold  water 
though,  very  cold." 

"Yes,  but  we  all  take  dips  in  it." 

"Youth!"  said  the  sick  man,  shaking  his 
head.  "Youth!" 

"If  one  does  not  swim,  I  know  it  is  quite 
too  cold,"  said  Diana.  "I  am  glad  you  are 
familiar  with  that  country,  for  then  you  can 
sympathize  with  my  enthusiasm.  I  long  to 
have  a  place  there  of  my  own  and,  perhaps 
with  such  congruity  of  taste,  you  and  I  to- 
gether can  persuade  my  parents  that  it  would 
not  be  too  erratic  in  me  to  buy  a  part  of  that 
green  hill  and  be  there  a  little  while  every 
year. " 

198 


COUSIN  HERBERT 


The  invalid  nodded.  "I'll  say  Amen  to 
anything  you  indicate,"  he  returned  readily. 

How  devoutly  Diana  hoped  this  promise 
might  be  kept! 

"I  have  another  reason  for  being  glad  to 
meet  a  man  relative  just  now, "  she  went  on. 
"There  are  some  people  at  the  Inn  where  I 
am  staying  who  present  such  a  strange  prob- 
lem. When  injustice  is  obviously  being  done, 
one  longs  to  help." 

Her  companion  nodded.  "That  is  natural, 
but  usually  futile,"  he  said.  "It  is  a  very 
good  rule  to  'keep  off  the  grass." 

"Yes,  but  this  affair  makes  me  very  un- 
happy, Cousin  Herbert." 

"A  shame,"  he  returned,  and  he  would 
like  to  have  patted  her  pretty  hand,  but  she 
was  on  his  left  side.  "Too  bad  there  is  always 
some  serpent  in  paradise.  Don't  be  too 
tender-hearted,  my  dear.  Don't  be  too  tender- 
hearted. It  does  n't  pay.  Of  course,  where- 
ever  you  go  people  will  try  to  lay  you  under 
tribute.  You  must  learn  to  wear  an  armor,  a 
full  suit  of  chain  armor  under  your  dainty 
costumes." 

"This  is  not  a  question  of  money,"  said 
Diana,  her  heart  beating  faster  and,  for  the 
first  time,  she  quaked  at  the  full  realization 

199 


THE  KEY  NOTE 


of  her  errand.  "Would  you  let  me  tell  you 
about  it,  Cousin  Herbert  ? " 

"Why,  of  course,  my  child,  if  it  is  any  satis- 
faction to  you  to  confide  in  such  a  useless  old 
cripple  as  I  have  become." 

"You  are  far  from  that,"  returned  the  girl, 
steadying  the  voice  which  threatened  to 
waver.  "Your  opinion  on  the  subject  will  be 
very  valuable  to  me. " 

The  sick  man  lifted  his  heavy  eyebrows  and 
smoothed  his  mustache.  "Then  proceed,  by 
all  means,"  he  said.  "One  thing  I  have  in 
tragic  abundance  is  time;  and  I  am  flattered." 

"There  is  a  man  at  our  Inn, "  began  Diana, 
her  fingers  tightly  intertwined  in  her  lap, 
"who  has  a  young  boy  in  his  power.  The  lad 
is  his  nephew.  He  shows  every  sign  of  years 
of  neglect.  The  uncle  continually  betrays 
himself,  and  scarcely  tries  to  hide  the  fact  that 
he  is  looking  forward  to  incarcerating  the  boy 
in  some  institution  for  the  deranged." 

"  Simply  to  get  rid  of  him  ? " 

"No;  there  is  money  back  in  the  family 
somewhere,  and  we  —  I  have  come  to  the 
conviction  that  this  man  believes  the  boy  will 
fall  heir  to  it,  and  that,  if  he  is  safely  out  of 
the  way,  the  uncle  as  guardian  will  get  con- 
trol of  this  money. " 

200 


COUSIN  HERBERT 


"What  sort  of  mentality  does  the  boy 
seem  to  have  ? " 

"He  is  a  sensitive,  fine-grained  lad  with 
just  the  sort  of  nature  which  persistent  brutal- 
ity will  blight  and  paralyze.  He  has  been  so 
neglected  that  he  has  little  physical  resistance 
and  one  can  see  him  being  gradually  crushed 
with  as  little  hope  of  escape  as  the  fly  in  the 
spider's  web." 

"And  you  take  it  greatly  to  heart,  eh?" 
said  the  invalid,  regarding  the  girl's  flushed 
face  and  appealing  eyes. 

"Would  n't  any  one  ?"  she  asked. 

"A  confounded  nuisance  to  have  such  a 
circumstance  mar  your  vacation. " 

"Oh,  think  of  the  boy's  side  of  it,  Cousin 
Herbert!" 

"You  want  my  opinion?  I  think  the  law 
could  take  a  hand  there." 

"Yes;  but  the  law  is  so  slow!"  Diana 
swallowed.  "So  near  a  relative  as  an  uncle, 
own  brother  to  the  boy's  father,  can  put  up 
a  hypocritical  fight  and  establish  a  very  strong 
claim." 

Herbert  Loring  shook  his  head.  "My  dear 

child,  in  your  position,  if  you  begin  on  this 

Quixotic  business,  there  will  be  no  end  to  it, 

believe  me.  You  can't  right  all  the  wrongs  in 

201 


THE  KEY  NOTE 


the  world,  and  you  will  have  the  pack  in  full 
cry  after  you  if  it  is  known  that  you  have  let 
down  the  bars.  You  can  state  this  case  to  a 
lawyer,  and  put  it  in  his  hands  with  the  under- 
standing that  you  will  pay  the  bills,  but  your 
identity  must  be  kept  secret.  Then  let  them 
fight  it  out.  You  can't  do  any  more  than  that. 
A  pity  I  did  n't  know  you  were  here  this  morn- 
ing. My  lawyer  was  with  me."  The  speaker's 
tired  eyes  smiled  and  the  corners  of  his  mus- 
tache lifted  slightly.  "I  have  celebrated  my 
return  by  destroying  my  will  and  the  new 
business  was  to  have  been  finished  this  morn- 
ing, but  I  was  uncertain  about  some  matters 
that  the  lawyer  is  looking  up  to-day.  He  will 
come  to-morrow  morning  to  draw  up  the 
new  will,  and  before  he  goes  I  will  send  for 
you  and  you  shall  tell  him  about  your  boy  and 
his  ogre  of  an  uncle. " 

Diana's  heart  was  beating  fast  now.  She 
summoned  all  her  courage.  "What  is  so  ex- 
citing to  me,  Cousin  Herbert, "  she  began,  — 
and  he  wondered  to  hear  the  wavering  in  her 
voice,  —  "is  that  lately  I  have  learned  that 
this  lad  is  related  to  some  one  rich  and  power- 
ful who  could  rescue  him  at  once. " 

A  puzzled  frown  came  in  Loring's  fore- 
head. 

202 


COUSIN  HERBERT 


"Any  one  I  know?"  he  asked. 

"Surely,  or  I  should  not  trouble  you  at  a 
time  when  you  are  not  feeling  strong.  Cousin 
Herbert,  this  neglected  boy  belongs  to  you. 
He  is  your  grandson."  Diana  unconsciously 
stretched  her  clasped  hands  toward  him. 

A  strange  white  change  came  over  her 
listener's  face  and  the  expression  that  awoke 
in  the  eyes  that  met  hers  was  terrible  to  her. 

"This  is  the  explanation  of  your  desire  to 
make  my  acquaintance, "  he  said  in  a  changed 
voice. 

She  was  so  frightened  that  she  seemed  to 
hear  her  own  heartbeats.  "The  boy's  name 
is  Gayne.  Herbert  Loring  Gayne, "  she  went 
on,  desperately. 

"Miss  Wilbur,  you  have  ventured  in  where 
angels  would  fear  to  tread, "  said  the  sick  man 
sternly,  "but  you  awake  no  memory.  That 
room  where  you  intrude  is  bare  and  empty. 
You—" 

"He  is  talented,"  pleaded  Diana.  "Very 
talented  as  an  artist.  Any  family  might  be 
proud  to  own  him  and  bring  him  out  of  a 
cellar  into  the  sunshine.  Think  of  the  interest 
in  life  it  would  give  you.  Think  it  over, 
Cousin  Herbert.  Just  be  willing  to  see  him 
once — " 

203 


THE  KEY  NOTE 


While  she  was  talking,  her  companion 
touched  the  bell  on  the  table  beside  him  and 
the  words  died  on  her  lips  as  the  valet  came 
into  the  room. 

"I  am  tired,  Marlitt,"  said  the  invalid 
huskily.  "Miss  Wilbur  is  ready  to  go."  His 
head  fell  back  against  a  down  pillow.  "Par- 
don my  not  attending  you  to  the  door, "  he 
added,  ignoring  the  girl's  wet-eyed  confusion. 
She  gathered  herself  together  and  rose. 

"Thank  you  for  allowing  me  to  come  in, " 
she  said,  inclining  her  head;  then  she  turned 
toward  the  door  which  Marlitt  held  open. 

She  continued  to  hold  her  head  high  until 
she  reached  her  own  apartment,  where  Mrs. 
Lowell  was  waiting.  The  latter  started  to  her 
feet  as  she  viewed  her  friend's  entrance  and 
noted  her  excited  color  and  trembling  lips. 

Diana  succeeded  in  uttering  one  word, 
"Hopeless,"  then  she  succumbed  into  Mrs. 
Lowell's  arms  and  fell  into  wild  weeping  on 
her  shoulder. 

Led  to  a  couch,  she  lay  upon  it  and  contin- 
ued weeping  while  Mrs.  Lowell  sat  beside 
her  and  held  her  hand  comfortingly. 

"We  did  right  to  come,  however, "  she  said, 
when,  after  a  time,  the  girl  was  quiet,  "and 
you  fulfilled  your  duty  bravely  in  going  to 

204 


COUSIN  HERBERT 


him.  You  cannot  tell  what  fruit  your  visit 
may  bring  forth.  Don't  try  to  tell  me  about 
it  now.  He  has  suffered  a  terrible  wound  to 
his  pride  and  heart,  and  even  after  many 
years  it  could  smart  when  touched.  We  must 
n't  be  discouraged.  Our  mission  is  a  right- 
eous one  and  so  God  is  on  our  side,  and  if  we 
don't  accomplish  the  child's  deliverance  in 
this  way,  we  shall  in  some  other  way.  I  am 
going  to  read  to  you  one  of  the  most  inspired 
and  inspiring  poems  ever  written,"  and, 
taking  up  her  Bible,  Mrs.  Lowell  turned  its 
pages  and  read  aloud  the  ninety-first  psalm. 

At  seven  o'clock  they  had  dinner  served 
in  their  room,  and  Diana  recounted  her  ex- 
perience with  the  invalid  before  they  retired 
for  the  night.  Mrs.  Lowell  again  talked  to 
her  calmly  and  comfortingly  and  the  girl's 
mortified  pride  and  disappointed  heart  finally 
quieted  and  she  slept. 

The  next  morning  the  two  friends  discussed 
plans  over  the  breakfast  which  was  served  in 
their  room.  When  later  the  waiter  arrived 
to  carry  away  the  tray,  he  was  so  full  of  news 
that  he  was  obliged  to  speak. 

"Big  excitement  in  the  house,"  he  said. 
"Gentleman  dead  in  his  bed.  Big  man,  too. 
Used  to  be  president  of  big  railroad. 
205 


Would  n  't  wonder  if  the  papers  had  extrys 
out  in  a  few  minutes. " 

Diana  caught  Mrs.  Lowell's  hand  and  the 
latter  spoke  to  the  man:  "What  name?" 

"Why  it 's  Herbert  Loring.  I  guess  that  '11 
make  some  stir." 

It  certainly  made  some  stir  in  Diana's 
heart.  It  was  throbbing.  When  the  waiter 
had  left  the  room,  she  lifted  horrified  eyes  to 
her  friend. 

"Do  you  think  I  killed  him?"  she  mur- 
mured. 

"No,  no,  dear  child." 

"  I  noticed  he  was  paralyzed  on  one  side, " 
said  the  girl,  "but  the  valet  will  tell  them 
that  I  excited  him  so  that  he  dismissed  me. 
Shall  I  pay  our  bill  and  we  go  away  at  once  ? " 

"Just  as  you  like,  dear." 

"  I  could  n't  do  that, "  said  Diana  suddenly. 
"I  cannot  be  a  coward." 

"Then  let  us  stay  right  here,"  said  Mrs. 
Lowell  quietly.  "You  may  be  questioned, 
and  it  will  be  better  to  be  found  easily.  I 
suppose  there  will  have  to  be  an  inquest  or 
some  such  formality." 

"Oh,  it  is  dreadful!"  exclaimed  the  girl. 
"If  my  mother  knew  this,  she  would  never 
allow  me  to  escape  from  under  her  wing 
206 


COUSIN  HERBERT 


again.  She  has  a  horror  of  anything  even 
unconventional. " 

"Just  be  calm  and  strong  in  the  right, 
Diana,  and  if  any  one  comes  to  question  you, 
try  not  to  lose  your  self-control.  I  know  you 
have  a  great  deal.  I  shall  stay  beside  you." 

"Yes,  I  beg  of  you  not  to  leave  me.  Poor 
Mr.  Loring.  Poor  Cousin  Herbert.  How  much 
sorrow  he  must  have  had.  So  proud  a  man  to 
become  helpless." 

Only  five  minutes  later  two  cards  were 
presented  at  the  door.  One  was  that  of  a 
doctor,  the  other  of  a  lawyer.  Mrs.  Lowell 
sent  word  that  the  men  were  to  be  admitted. 

Diana  had  on  the  peach-colored  negligee 
and,  when  the  two  callers  were  ushered  into 
the  living-room  of  her  suite,  they  found  a 
pale,  large-eyed  girl  standing  with  their  cards 
in  her  hand. 


CHAPTER  XIII 

THE  LAW 

ONE  of  the  cards  which  Diana  held  read  Ernst 
Veldt,  M.D.,  the  other  was  that  of  Luther 
Wrenn,  Attorney  at  Law. 

"Be  seated,  gentlemen,"  said  Diana.  "I 
know  the  urgency  of  your  errand  and,  there- 
fore, I  would  not  detain  you  while  I  dressed. 
This  is  my  friend,  Mrs.  Lowell.  We  were 
just  finishing  breakfast  when  the  shocking 
news  was  brought  to  us.  Mrs.  Lowell,  Dr. 
Veldt  and  Mr.  Wrenn." 

The  portentous  expression  in  the  face  of 
the  two  visitors  did  not  lighten  as  they  bowed 
and  took  possession  of  the  chairs  Diana  in- 
dicated. Thrills  of  dread  were  coursing  down 
her  spine  and  her  knees  were  weak  enough  to 
cause  her  to  be  glad  to  take  her  own  seat.  She 
felt  a  horrible  uncertainty  as  to  her  own  re- 
sponsibility in  the  tragedy. 

The  physician,  as  the  most  aggrieved 
party,  spoke  first:  "Mr.  Loring  was  my  pa- 
tient," he  said,  speaking  with  some  accent. 
"From  what  his  valet  tells  us  you  should  be 
able  to  throw  some  light  on  what  has  oc- 
curred." The  speaker's  frown  darkened  as  he 
208 


THE  LAW 

spoke.  This  wretched  girl  had  robbed  him, 
no  one  could  tell  of  how  much.  "Mr.  Loring 
did  not  know  you,  had  never  seen  you — " 

"Let  me  question  the  young  lady,"  inter- 
rupted the  lawyer.  If  this  girl  in  the  rich 
garments  and  the  luxurious  suite  were  an  ad- 
venturess planning  to  get  money  from  the 
sick  man,  she  had  staged  herself  well.  She 
was  beautiful  and  her  eyes  now  were  large 
with  horror,  perhaps  with  guilt. 

"How  did  you  manage  to  get  into  Mr. 
Loring's  apartment?" 

"I  wrote  him  a  note  requesting  him  to  see 
me,"  faltered  Diana.  "He  is  —  he  is  a  sort 
of  relation  of  mine. " 

"It  would  be  a  little  difficult  to  tell  just 
what  relation,  I  dare  say, "  put  in  the  doctor, 
nodding.  "Odd  that  you  could  n't  let  a  sick 
man  get  a  bit  acclimated  on  his  return  before 
you  forced  yourself,  an  utter  stranger,  into 
his  rooms  — " 

"Wait  a  bit,  Dr.  Veldt,"  said  the  lawyer, 
interrupting  again.  "Let  us  have  your  full 
name,  please, "  he  added,  turning  to  the  culprit. 

"Diana  Wilbur,"  said  the  girl.  "Did  you 
not  find  the  note  I  wrote  Mr.  Loring?" 

"No.  The  valet  followed  his  master's 
orders  and  destroyed  the  note  as  soon  as  you 
209 


THE  KEY  NOTE 


were  gone.  Marlitt  is  completely  unstrung. 
He  could  n't  remember  anything  about  your 
communication  except  that  Mr.  Loring  told 
him  that  he  was  about  to  have  a  visit  from  a 
schoolgirl.  Marlitt  said  that  you  finally  left  the 
room  in  tears  and  that  his  master  collapsed. " 

"And  it  looks  like  manslaughter,  that 's 
what  it  looks  like,  manslaughter,"  said  the 
doctor  angrily. 

Diana's  very  lips  grew  pale.  "Oh,  gentle- 
men, "  she  said,  and  her  quiet  voice  trembled, 
"please  be  very  careful  what  you  say.  Sup- 
posing anything  about  me  should  get  into  the 
papers." 

"Yes,  Dr.  Veldt,"  said  the  lawyer  quickly, 
"we  should  be  careful  in  our  accusations. 
Remember  that  Mr.  Loring  had  sustained 
two  strokes  before  his  return.  His  interview 
with  me  yesterday  morning  was  a  draught 
upon  him." 

Diana  turned  toward  the  lawyer  and  clasped 
her  hands.  "Oh,  yes,"  she  said.  "He  told  me 
he  had  destroyed  his  will  — " 

"Aha,"  said  the  doctor,  nodding  his  big 
gray  head  again,  "we  begin  to  see  light.  His 
will.  That  is  what  you  were  interested  in, 
eh  ?  A  sort  of  relation,  eh  ? " 

"Gentlemen,"  said  Mrs.  Lowell  suddenly 
210 


THE  LAW 

taking  part  in  the  interview,  "I  think  it 
might  help  you  in  your  judgments  to  know 
that  Miss  Wilbur  is  the  only  child  of  Charles 
Wilbur,  the  steel  man  of  Philadelphia?" 

Her  announcement  had  a  dramatic  effect. 
The  doctor's  mouth  opened  mutely  as  he 
stared.  The  lawyer's  brow  cleared  and  he 
looked  curiously  at  Diana  and  bowed. 

"You  see,"  said  the  girl  unsteadily,  "it 
would  be  dreadful  if  anything  about  me  in 
connection  with  this  shocking  occurrence 
should  get  into  the  papers,  for  I  meant  no 
harm.  Mr.  Loring  was  a  distant  connection 
of  my  father's  and  I  went  to  him  in  behalf  of 
some  one  else  — "  she  hesitated. 

"  Can  you  tell  why  your  visit  should  have 
so  excited  him  ? "  asked  the  lawyer. 

"Yes.  It  was  because  I  spoke  of  his 
daughter. " 

"Will  you  repeat  to  us  just  what  you  said 
to  him?" 

"I  will  tell  you.  It  is  a  matter  for  a 
lawyer. " 

"Miss  Wilbur,"  said  Dr.  Veldt,  rising  and 
speaking  in  a  voice  which  he  strove  not  to 
make  too  unlike  his  previous  manner,  "we 
cannot  tell,  until  the  post  mortem  takes  place, 
just  what  caused  this  death,  but  I  hope  the 

211 


THE  KEY  NOTE 


result  of  the  investigation  may  be  enlighten- 
ment that  will  set  your  mind  at  rest.  Since 
you  wish  to  speak  with  Mr.  Wrenn,  I  will 
leave  you  and  hope  that  he  will  be  able  to 
assist  you  in  your  problem,  whatever  it  may 
be.  Good-morning."  And  with  what  grace 
he  could  muster,  the  physician  left  the  room. 

Diana  sank  back  in  her  chair  and  Mrs. 
Lowell  saw  her  exhaustion. 

"Shall  I  tell  our  story  to  Mr.  Wrenn?" 
she  asked. 

The  girl  nodded. 

"Miss  Wilbur  has  generously  thrown  her- 
self into  the  thick  of  a  problem  which  has 
been  absorbing  me  in  the  last  weeks,"  she 
began,  and  then  she  proceeded  to  tell  the 
details  of  their  experience. 

The  lawyer  listened  with  close  attention. 
"  So,  on  the  impulse  of  the  moment,  we  came 
to  Boston,  arriving  yesterday  morning,  and 
Miss  Wilbur's  request  to  see  Mr.  Loring  was 
met  by  an  appointment  by  him  for  three- 
thirty,  which  she  kept. " 

"He  was  very  gracious  to  me,"  said  Di- 
ana, "and  I  was  very  hopeful  at  first."  She 
stopped  to  control  the  quivering  of  her  lips. 

"How  did  you  proceed?"  asked  the  law- 
yer kindly. 

212 


THE  LAW 

"I  told  him  the  boy's  story,  and  he  advised 
me  to  keep  out  of  that  sort  of  entanglement  in 
another's  affairs.  I  was  frightened  then,  but 
I  continued  because,  of  course,  I  could  not 
relinquish  the  matter  there,  and  finally,  I 
told  him  that  the  boy  was  his  grandson." 
Diana's  voice  stopped  again,  and  she  shook 
her  head. 

"He  became  excited,  heated?"  asked  the 
lawyer  encouragingly. 

"No;  cold,  stern.  He  —  he  repulsed  me 
and  utterly  repudiated  the  whole  matter.  He 
said  there  was  not  even  the  —  the  echo  of  a 
memory  left."  Diana  lifted  her  handker- 
chief to  her  eyes. 

"  Poor  little  Helen.  I  knew  her  well, "  said 
the  lawyer  thoughtfully. 

"You  did  know  Bertie's  mother?"  said 
Mrs.  Lowell  with  interest.  "Then  you  will 
be  able  to  judge  of  the  sketch  a  lonely  little 
boy  made  of  her. " 

"We  had  put  this  matter  into  the  hands  of 
Mrs.  Lowell's  husband,  who  is  a  lawyer  in 
New  York,"  said  Diana.  "We  expected 
to  have  a  long  search  for  Bertie's  grand- 
father, but,  as  Mrs.  Lowell  has  told  you,  my 
mother,  all  unconsciously  gave  us  the  in- 
formation we  needed,  and  then  —  Oh,  Mr. 
213 


THE  KEY  NOTE 


Wrenn,  how  could  I  do  otherwise,  and  yet  it 
is  —  so  dreadful  to  think  — "  Again  Diana 
covered  her  eyes. 

"Don't  think  it,  Miss  Wilbur,"  said  the 
lawyer  decidedly.  "You  did  what  was  wom- 
anly and  brave.  Had  you  come  to  me,  in- 
stead of  going  directly  to  Mr.  Loring,  it 
might  possibly  have  been  better,  but  how  can 
we  know?  My  client  and  old  friend  was 
immovably  set  against  the  daughter  who 
defied  him,  and  if  the  intense  feeling  which 
your  plea  roused  in  him  was  a  boomerang 
that  laid  him  low,  that  is  not  your  fault,  and 
could  n't  possibly  have  been  foreseen.  Now, 
dismiss  that  fear  from  your  thoughts.  A 
condition  has  arisen  which  perhaps  has  not 
occurred  to  either  of  you  ladies.  From  what 
you  tell  me,  it  looks  as  if  the  boy  who  has  in- 
terested you  may  really  be  Herbert  Loring's 
grandson.  That  will  have  to  be  proved,  and 
doubtless  the  avaricious  uncle  has  the  proofs 
if  they  exist.  That  once  accomplished,  this 
lad  will  be  sole  heir  to  a  considerable  fortune, 
for  there  is  no  will." 

Mrs.  Lowell  and  Diana  exchanged  a  look. 

"Mr.  Wrenn,"  said  Mrs.  Lowell  quickly, 
"Mr.  Gayne  is  capable  of  any  brutality.  He 
will  see  Mr.  Loring's  death  in  the  papers  — " 

214 


THE  LAW 

"But  he  does  not  know  that  there  is  no 
will,"  the  lawyer  reminded  her,  "and  he  will 
probably  come  to  me  with  proofs  that  'the 
boy  should  inherit.  That  would  naturally  be 
his  next  step.  Do  you  think  the  boy's  men- 
tality has  been  hopelessly  impaired  ? " 

"I  do  not,"  said  Mrs.  Lowell,  and  her  face 
grew  radiant.  "When  once  the  slave  is  freed, 
God  will  take  care  of  Bertie's  mentality. " 

The  lawyer  bent  his  heavy  brows  upon  her 
gravely.  "Young  Herbert  has  a  good  friend 
in  you,"  he  said. 

"Oh,  Mr.  Wrenn,"  exclaimed  Diana  fer- 
vently, "  if  you  can  get  Mrs.  Lowell  to  super- 
vise his  life  for  the  next  five  years,  you  will  do 
the  best  thing  that  could  be  done  for  him  in 
all  the  world." 

The  lawyer  nodded,  still  with  thoughtful 
eyes  on  Mrs.  Lowell's  speaking  face.  She  was 
thanking  God  as  she  sat  there  that  the  crush- 
ing burden  was  being  lifted  from  one  of  His 
little  ones. 

"Mr.  Loring's  funeral  will  be  a  rather  sad 
and  perfunctory  ceremony, "  said  Mr.  Wrenn. 
"For  several  years  he  has  absented  himself 
from  this  country  most  of  the  time.  He  is 
not  rich  in  even  poor  relations.  I  remember 
a  few  names  which  were  mentioned  in  the 
215 


THE  KEY  NOTE 


will  which  was  destroyed  yesterday,  and  I 
am  sure  he  would  wish  me  to  respect  his 
wishes  and  give  moderate  sums  to  those 
beneficiaries,  for  he  stated  that  he  should  not 
change  that  clause.  I  wonder  if  you  ladies 
might  be  willing  to  stay  over  for  the  funeral. 
I  am  certain  that  Mr.  Gayne  will  attend  it 
and  see  me  afterward." 

A  compassion  that  swept  through  Diana 
at  remembrance  of  the  tired  eyes  and  the 
helpless  figure  in  its  rich  wrappings  caused 
her  to  give  her  consent  to  remain  for  the 
funeral. 

She  wired  her  mother  that,  being  in  Boston 
for  a  few  days,  she  should  attend  that  cere- 
mony, and  was  disconcerted  to  receive  a  re- 
turn message  stating  that  her  mother  would 
also  attend,  her  father  not  having  returned 
from  his  cruise.  She  showed  this  to  Mrs. 
Lowell,  and  the  latter  was  privately  amused 
at  the  consternation  betrayed  by  the  girl  at 
the  prospect  of  welcoming  a  parent. 

"Of  course,  it  won't  be  necessary  to  trouble 
her  with  any  details, "  said  Mrs.  Lowell,  and 
Diana  pressed  her  hand  in  token  that  she  ap- 
preciated the  comfort  of  her  perception. 

The  first  thought  Mrs.  Lowell  had,  upon 
seeing  Mrs.  Wilbur,  was:  "What  a  handsome 
216 


THE  LAW 

man  Diana's  father  must  be, "  for  the  girl  did 
not  get  her  beauty  from  this  plump  little 
lady  with  the  short  nose,  wide  mouth,  and 
small  eyes.  Even  Mrs.  Wilbur's  grand  air, 
erect  carnage,  and  perfect  dress  could  not 
make  her  a  stately  figure,  although  it  was  her 
habit  to  consider  herself  one,  and  her  plump 
little  jeweled  hand  wielded  a  lorgnette  in  a 
manner  which  entitled  her  to  a  Roman  nose' 
and  impressive  height.  Her  maid,  Leonie, 
was  with  her,  and  looked  after  her  mistress 
with  what  seemed  to  Mrs.  Lowell  an  amaz- 
ing knowledge  of  her  needs  and  wishes. 

"Look  at  your  hands!"  was  Mrs.  Wilbur's 
greeting  of  her  daughter.  "I  know  you  have 
not  worn  gloves." 

Diana  bent  down  to  her  in  all  meekness. 
"Not  continuously,  Mamma,"  she  said. 
"They  will  very  soon  blanch  again." 

"You  're  coming  right  home  with  me  after 
this  sad,  sad  affair,  of  course,"  continued 
Mrs.  Wilbur.  "How  strange  that  you  hap- 
pened to  be  in  Boston,  and  fortunate,  too. 
Your  father  would  have  liked  us  to  show  this 
attention."  By  this  time  they  were  in  Mrs. 
Wilbur's  suite  in  the  hotel,  and  she  turned 
to  Mrs.  Lowell.  "I  am  grateful  to  you  for 
taking  care  of  this  child  of  mine,"  she  said. 
217 


THE  KEY  NOTE 


"  I  don't  like  to  tell  her  how  well  she  looks, 
for  it  encourages  her  in  such  a  prank  as  this 
island  summer." 

"It  has  proved  a  good  plan  for  her,  I'm 
sure,"  responded  Mrs.  Lowell. 

"But  enough  is  enough,"  said  Mrs.  Wil- 
bur. "She  is  rested  now  and  our  friends  are 
always  asking  for  her.  No  more  island." 

"Dear  Mamma,  do  not  be  so  determined, 
for  Mrs.  Lowell  and  I  just  came  here  for  a 
few  days  and  I  shall  have  to  return  and  gather 
my  belongings  together  at  least." 

"Very  well,  then  I  will  go  with  you  and 
look  at  it  myself." 

Mrs.  Lowell  could  with  difficulty  repress 
a  smile  at  the  way  Diana's  eyes  enlarged  with 
apprehension. 

"You  would  not  like  it,  dear,  you  would 
not  like  it,"  she  said  earnestly. 

"Then  why  do  you  ?"  responded  her  mother 
defiantly. 

"Because  I  like  roughing  it.  I  like  camp- 
ing." 

"Well,"  sighed  Mrs.  Wilbur,  "I  am  so 
near,  I  may  as  well  look  at  it. " 

"What  would  you  do  in  a  house  without  a 
bathroom?"  asked  Diana. 

The  blank,  incredulous  look  with  which 
218 


THE  LAW 

Mrs.  Wilbur  met  her  daughter's  question 
made  Mrs.  Lowell  expect  her  parted  lips  to 
utter:  "There  ain't  no  such  animal."  But 
the  lady  merely  said,  reproachfully:  "How 
can  you  like  it  there,  Diana  ? " 

"My  ancestors  had  no  bathtubs,"  replied 
the  girl.  "Then,  besides,  we  have  the  ocean." 

"Well,"  sighed  Mrs.  Wilbur,  "the  funeral 
comes  first.  I  suppose  Mr.  Loring  was  con- 
fined to  his  room  so  you  could  n't  happen  to 
see  him  about  the  hotel." 

Diana  cast  a  glance  at  Mrs.  Lowell  before 
she  replied: " I  did  see  him,  though,  Mamma." 
The  girl  felt  very  certain  that  the  episode 
could  never  be  finished  without  this  fact 
transpiring. 

"You  did  ?"  Mrs.  Wilbur  sat  up  with  great 
interest.  "  That  explains  why  you  have  seemed 
to  me  a  little  sad  ever  since  I  came.  You 
saw  the  poor  man.  How  did  it  happen  ?" 

"I  wrote  him  a  note  and  asked  him  if  I 
could  call.  I  reminded  him  that  we  were  re- 
lated — "  She  hesitated. 

"Why,  Diana  Wilbur,  I  never  heard  of 
anything  so  extraordinary!  You  dear  lamb, 
how  pleased  your  father  will  be!  Mrs.  Low- 
ell, "  she  turned  to  that  lady,  "do  you  wonder 
I  'm  proud  of  this  child  ?  Do  you  believe  that 
219 


THE  KEY  NOTE 


one  young  girl  in  a  thousand  would  take  the 
trouble  to  pay  such  an  attention  to  an  elderly 
relative  whom  she  had  never  seen  ? " 

Mrs.  Lowell  was  saved  from  the  embar- 
rassment of  replying,  for  Diana  spoke  hur- 
riedly: 

"  It  is  n't  what  you  think,  Mamma.  I 
went  to  him  on  an  errand  —  some  one  else's 
errand." 

Mrs.  Wilbur  put  up  her  lorgnette  the  bet- 
ter to  view  her  daughter's  crimsoning  cheeks 
and  quivering  lips. 

"Tell  me  what  it  was,  at  once,"  she  com- 
manded. "Who  dared  to  make  use  of  you  in 
such  a  way?" 

"No  one,"  protested  the  girl.  "It  was  my 
own  idea,  but  please  don't  ask  me  to  tell  you 
of  it  now.  I  have  had  such  a  shock  —  I  am 
really  not  able  to  talk  about  it  yet." 

"Very  well,  then,  I  will  wait."  Mrs.  Wil- 
bur's dilated  nostrils  expressed  her  dis- 
pleasure. "But  this  proves  that  you  are, 
just  as  I  have  felt,  too  young  to  be  wandering 
about  on  your  own.  I  should  not  have  allowed 
you  to  leave  me."  As  she  finished,  the 
mother  swept  Mrs.  Lowell  with  a  condemn- 
ing glance  in  which  she  withdrew  all  her  pre- 
vious approval  of  that  lady. 
220 


THE  LAW 

Mrs.  Lowell  understood  it,  but  she  spoke 
pleasantly:  "When  the  right  time  comes  for 
you  to  learn  what  brought  us  to  Boston,  you 
will  find  that  your  daughter  deserves  only 
approval,"  she  said  in  her  quiet,  cheerful 
manner. 

Mrs.  Wilbur's  nostrils  still  dilated  and  she 
used  her  fan  in  a  majestic  silence. 


CHAPTER  XIV 

THE  WILL 

HERBERT  LORING'S  funeral  was  conducted  in 
the  church  to  which  he  had  been  a  contributor 
for  many  years.  Distant  connections  of  the 
family,  old  business  friends,  and  curiosity- 
seekers  made  a  gathering  of  average  size,  and 
among  those  seated,  toward  the  back  of  the 
audience,  was  Nicholas  Gayne. 

The  astute  lawyer's  expectation  of  a  visit 
from  him  was  not  disappointed.  Indeed, 
Luther  Wrenn  came  to  his  office  at  an  ear- 
lier hour  than  usual  the  following  morning, 
entirely  in  honor  of  that  gentleman. 

On  the  drive  to  the  cemetery  the  day  of 
the  funeral,  Mr.  Wrenn  had  placed  Diana, 
her  mother,  and  Mrs.  Lowell  in  the  motor 
with  himself.  There  was  little  said  on  the  way 
out.  The  lawyer  was  well  known  by  repu- 
tation to  Mrs.  Wilbur,  and  the  only  draw- 
back to  her  satisfaction  in  the  arrangement 
was  Diana's  preoccupation  and  the  knowl- 
,  edge  that  interesting  information  was  being 
kept  back  from  her.  Mrs.  Wilbur  had  not 
only  sent  lavish  gifts  of  flowers  to  the  church, 
but,  there  seeming  to  be  no  one  but  paid 
222 


THE  WILL 

workers  to  attend  to  the  decorations,  she  had 
personally  supervised  them,  and,  coming 
back  from  the  cemetery,  the  lawyer  expressed 
his  appreciation  of  her  kindness  and  her  pres- 
ence in  a  manner  to  apply  much  balm.  How- 
ever, he  turned  directly  from  his  respectful 
laudation  of  Mrs.  Wilbur  to  her  daughter. 

"How  long  can  you  and  Mrs.  Lowell  stay 
on  ?"  he  asked,  and  the  mother  became  alert. 
His  manner  signified  previous  acquaintance 
with  Diana. 

"Just  as  long  as  is  necessary,"  was  the 
girl's  surprising  reply. 

"  I  am  certain  that  Gayne  will  call  on  me 
the  first  thing  to-morrow  morning,  and  I 
should  like  you  to  remain  near  the  telephone 
if  you  will." 

"Certainly,"  replied  Diana. 

"Mr.  Wrenn,  I  don't  understand  what  you 
are  asking  of  my  daughter, "  said  Mrs.  Wil- 
bur crisply. 

"Ah, "  —  the  lawyer  bowed  gravely.  "  Per- 
haps you  have  not  been  told  of  the  surprising 
turn  events  have  taken.  It  is  a  matter  which 
requires  secrecy  until  identities  are  estab- 
lished and  evil-doers  circumvented.  Let  me 
congratulate  you,  Mrs.  Wilbur,  on  a  remark- 
ably fine  and  intelligent  daughter.  She  is  a 
223 


THE  KEY  NOTE 


credit  to  your  bringing-up.  Not  many  mothers 
can  boast  of  having  instilled  such  prudence." 

The  lady  leaned  back  in  her  corner,  not 
certain  whether  to  accept  this  disarming,  or 
to  insist  immediately  upon  her  rights.  She 
decided  to  compromise  and  wait  until  they 
reached  the  hotel. 

"My  daughter  tells  you  she  can  wait  in 
Boston  as  long  as  is  necessary,'*  she  said  at 
last,  "and  her  mother  will  have  to  under- 
stand the  necessity." 

"Certainly,  Mrs.  Wilbur,"  responded  the 
lawyer.  "We  have  found  ourselves  in  a  totally 
unexpected  situation.  Mr.  Herbert  Loring 
destroyed  his  will  and  died  before  he  could 
make  another." 

Mrs.  Wilbur  exclaimed.  Mr.  Loring  was 
known  to  be  wealthy  and  she  was  interested 
in  fortunes.  Her  brain  began  working  actively 
on  the  probabilities  of  the  heirs. 

"The  next  strange  event  is  that  your 
young  daughter  has  probably  found  the  heir.* 

Mrs.  Wilbur  raised  her  lorgnette  and  re- 
garded Diana,  drooping  opposite,  as  if  she 
were  a  new  discovery. 

"I  wish  to  understand,"  she  said  with 
dignity. 

"It  seems  that  Mr.  Loring' s  disobedient 
224 


THE  WILL 

daughter  left  a  son  whose  existence  has  been 
unsuspected  unless  Mr.  Loring  himself  knew 
of  it,  which  he  never  betrayed.  Your  daugh- 
ter and  Mrs.  Lowell  have  found  the  boy. " 

"Not  I,"  protested  Diana.  "Mrs.  Lowell, 
in  her  sweet  unselfishness,  deserves  all  the 
credit.  I  should  have  paid  no  attention  to 
him,  but  I  —  it  was  through  your  letter, 
Mamma,  that  I  found  the  boy's  grandfather." 

"We  all  had  a  hand  in  it,  then,  it  seems," 
said  Mrs.  Wilbur. 

"The  boy's  uncle  has  possession  of  him. 
His  father  and  mother  are  both  dead,  and, 
according  to  these  ladies,  the  uncle  can  qualify 
as  the  world's  meanest  man.  So  we  proceed 
carefully  until  the  proofs  which  he  is  sup- 
posed to  have  are  in  hand.  You,  Mrs.  Wilbur, 
will  aid  us  in  silence  on  the  subject  until  the 
right  time  for  speaking." 

"How  old  is  he,  Diana?"  burst  forth  the 
lady.  "What  does  he  look  like  ?  Is  he  clever 
and  worthy  of  such  a  heritage  ? " 

"He  is  a  poor,  shabby,  ill-treated  boy  about 
fourteen  years  old.  He  has  never  had  a 
chance,  but  I  scarcely  know  him.  Mrs.  Low- 
ell is  the  one  who  discovered  him  and  cared 
for  him." 

Mrs.  Wilbur  glanced  at  Mrs.  Lowell,  but 
225 


THE  KEY  NOTE 


she  could  not  bring  herself  to  ask  her  a  ques- 
tion. She  felt  a  vague  jealousy  and  sense  of 
injury  at  finding  this  stranger  in  her  child's 
confidence  and  aiding  and  abetting  her  in  so 
much  independence  of  action. 

As  soon  as  possible  after  the  reception  of 
Mrs.  Wilbur's  enlightening  letter  at  the 
island,  Mrs.  Lowell  had  wired  her  husband 
that  the  search  was  ended  before  it  had  begun, 
and  he  returned  Diana's  check  with  congratu- 
lations. 

"What  an  amazed  boy  that  will  be,  Mr. 
Wrenn,"  remarked  Mrs.  Wilbur.  "What  is 
his  name  ? " 

"  Herbert  Loring  Gayne." 

"H'm.  I  suppose  his  mother  had  all  sorts 
of  hope  that  with  a  son  of  that  name  she 
could  placate  her  father." 

"Doubtless  she  did,"  replied  the  lawyer, 
"and  I  wish  it  might  have  proved  so.  Per- 
haps they  would  both  have  been  alive  to-day 
had  she  succeeded,  but  my  old  friend  Loring 
never  mentioned  her  to  me  and  I  don't  know 
what  efforts  she  made.  There  must  be  a  good 
deal  of  delay  before  the  young  heir  can  come 
into  his  own." 

"I    suppose    so,"    sighed    Mrs.    Wilbur. 
"That  tiresome  law  moves  slowly." 
226 


THE  WILL 

Diana  looked  up  with  sudden  attention. 
"But  we  must  not  be  dilatory  in  rescuing 
the  boy." 

Mr.  Wrenn  nodded.  "If  he  is  proved  to 
be  the  right  one." 

"There  can  be  no  doubt  of  it,"  said  Mrs. 
Lowell. 

"Not  to  charming,  sympathetic  ladies,  of 
course,"  returned  the  lawyer  with  a  smile. 

"I  feel  that  every  day  counts,"  said  Mrs. 
Lowell.  "He  must  be  removed  from  that 
mental  malaria  as  soon  as  possible." 

"I  will — "  began  Diana,  and  then  she 
glanced  at  her  mother,  —  "I  mean  Mamma  will 
gladly  finance  him,  I  'm  sure,  for  the  present." 

"Perhaps,"  said  Mrs.  Wilbur  with  dignity, 
"when  you  see  fit  to  tell  me  the  whole  story. 
I  'm  sure  I  have  n't  it  yet." 

"There  is  no  reason  to  burden  you, 
Mamma,  with  disagreeable  considerations," 
said  Diana  meekly.  "I  can  myself  look  after 
the  boy's  needs." 

"Yes,  she  can,"  said  Mrs.  Wilbur  in  an 
offended  tone.  "What  do  you  think,  Mr. 
Wrenn,  of  a  father  who  insists  on  giving  a 
young  girl  an  unlimited  check-book,  not  re- 
quiring her  to  give  any  account  of  what  she 
does  with  money?" 

227 


THE  KEY  NOTE 


The  lawyer  smiled  at  the  embarrassed 
culprit.  "I  think  that  your  husband  has 
proved  himself  a  very  good  reader  of  char- 
acter all  through  his  career. " 

Mrs.  Wilbur  bounced  back  into  her  corner. 
She  did  n't  intend  to  bounce;  she  intended 
to  lean  back  gracefully,  with  an  air  of  re- 
nouncing all  interest  in  this  matter  which  had 
proceeded  so  far  without  her  cooperation, 
but  just  at  that  moment  the  car  went  over  a 
"  thank-you-ma'am. " 

As  has  already  been  said,  Luther  Wrenn, 
the  following  morning,  sought  his  office  at  an 
earlier  hour  than  was  customary,  and  Nich- 
olas Gayne  was  there  before  him. 

He  did  not  keep  him  waiting  long,  and  the 
stocky  figure  and  dark  face  soon  appeared  in 
the  private  office. 

The  lawyer  regarded  the  stranger  over  his 
eye-glasses. 

"I  did  n't  have  any  card,"  said  the  visitor. 
"My  name  is  Gayne,  Nicholas  Gayne." 

"Be  seated,  sir.  What  is  your  errand?" 

"  I  would  like  to  be  present  at  the  reading 
of  the  Herbert  Loring  will."  The  speaker's 
manner  was  confident,  and  he  seemed  en- 
deavoring to  repress  excitement. 

"Indeed  ?  Are  you  a  relative  ?" 
228 


'.THE  WILL 

"No,  but  my  nephew  is.  I  have  a  great 
surprise  for  you,  Mr.  Wrenn.  My  nephew  is 
Herbert  Loring's  grandson  and  namesake. >? 
Nicholas  Gayne  marveled  at  the  self-control 
of  a  lawyer,  for  Luther  Wrenn's  expression 
did  not  change.  "I  visited  Mr.  Loring  before 
he  went  abroad  the  last  time,  but  he  would 
not  listen  to  me  or  look  at  my  proofs.  So  I 
suppose  he  has  not  mentioned  his  grandson 
in  his  will,  and,  if  that  is  the  fact,  I  wish  to 
retain  you  to  break  the  will."  This  decla- 
ration was  made  with  great  energy  and  a  flash 
of  the  speaker's  dark  eyes. 

"You  have  proofs,  then,"  said  Mr.  Wrenn, 
after  a  short  hesitation,  perhaps  to  make 
sure  of  the  retention  of  that  self-control. 

"Yes,  right  here."  Gayne  caught  up  from 
the  floor  a  small  black  leather  bag,  and  opened 
it.  "Here  are  the  letters  Bert's  mother 
wrote  her  father  to  try  for  a  reconciliation. 
Returned  unopened,  you  see.  Here  is  her 
picture.  Perhaps  you  knew  her." 

Luther  Wrenn  took  the  small  card  photo- 
graph and  gazed  at  it  long. 

"My  brother  was  an  irresponsible  sort  of 

chap.  At  the  time  he  met  Miss  Loring,  he  had 

put  through  a  good  deal  and  was  riding  on 

top  of  the  wave.  She  was  artistic  in  her  tastes, 

229 


THE  KEY  NOTE 


and  he  met  her  through  the  artist  set  at 
Gloucester,  where  she  was  that  summer,  and 
she  took  a  fancy  to  him  that  her  father 
could  n't  break  off.  Unfortunate,  you  '11  say, 
but  Lambert  was  a  stunning-looking  chap 
and  she  decided  firmly  on  her  course.  So  now 
here  is  this  boy  and  the  law  should  protect 
his  rights.  Here 's  the  record  of  his  birth 
fourteen  years  ago,  in  her  own  writing;  per- 
haps you  know  her  writing."  Gayne  was 
talking  fast  and  excitedly,  and  Wrenn  took 
from  his  hand  one  after  another  of  the  proofs 
he  offered  and  laid  them  on  his  desk  with  no 
change  of  countenance. 

"What  sort  of  a  boy  is  your  nephew  ?"  he 
asked.  "A  bright  boy?" 

Gayne's  face  changed.  He  looked  away. 
"Well,  no.  I  can't  say  he  is.  Bert  is  delicate. 
He  needs  all  sorts  of  care,  care  that  takes 
heaps  of  money  to  pay  for.  I  have  n't  been 
able  to  do  for  him  what  I  'd  like  to.  As  soon 
as  you  get  his  money  for  him,  I  shall  engage 
professional  care  and  see  that  he  has  the  best. 
I  'm  a  good  business  man,  if  I  do  say  it,  and 
I  '11  see  that  his  funds  multiply  until  he  is  able 
to  look  after  his  fortune  himself." 

Luther  Wrenn  nodded.  "I  see,"  he  said; 
and  he  did,  very  plainly.  "  Now,  there  will  be 
230 


THE  WILL 

no  reading  of  the  will,  Mr.  Gayne.  That  is 
all  attended  to.  So  you  may  leave  this  matter 
with  me." 

"Was  the  boy  mentioned?"  asked  Gayne 
eagerly. 

"No;  no  mention  of  him." 

"You  think  you  can  get  some  money, 
though,  don't  you  ? " 

"Possibly.  I  '11  see  you  again." 

"There  ain't  any  kind  of  doubt  that  he  's 
the  genuine  grandson,"  said  Gayne,  rising 
reluctantly,  as  the  lawyer  got  to  his  feet. 

"Your  proofs  seem  to  be  convincing,"  was 
the  grave  reply. 

"Well,  could  you  —  could  n't  you  advance 
me  something  now  for  Bert's  care  ?  He  needs 
a  lot  of  things,  that  boy  does." 

"You  go  too  swiftly,  Mr.  Gayne.  Come  back 
here  at  three  o'clock  day  after  to-morrow. " 

Gayne  looked  at  the  papers  and  picture 
strewn  on  the  lawyer's  desk.  "I  don't  know 
about  leaving  the  only  proofs  of  our  rights 
that  I  've  got. " 

Luther  Wrenn  turned  to  the  desk  and  gath- 
ered them  up.  "Certainly.  Take  them  to 
some  lawyer  in  whom  you  have  confidence. " 

"Oh,  pshaw,  no,"  said  Gayne  sheepishly. 
"I  did  n't  mean  that.  You  were  Mr.  Loring's 
231 


THE  KEY  NOTE 


lawyer.  You  're  the  one  to  handle  the  case. " 

"Good-day,  then,  Mr.  Gayne." 

"Good-day,"  and  Nicholas  took  his  de- 
parture. 

As  soon  as  the  door  had  closed  behind  him, 
Wrenn  seated  himself  at  the  desk  and  called 
up  the  Copley-Plaza.  Diana  was  waiting. 

"Miss  Wilbur?" 

"Yes." 

"Mr.  Wrenn  speaking.  Mr.  Gayne  has 
been  here.  Please  wire  at  once  to  the  island 
and  get  some  one  to  bring  the  boy  to  your 
hotel  as  soon  as  possible." 

"Yes,  Mr.  Wrenn." 

"I  think  Mr.  Barrison  is  the  one  to  ask," 
said  Diana  to  Mrs.  Lowell,  who  was  waiting 
near. 

So  it  was  that  an  hour  later  Philip  Barrison 
was  called  to  the  telephone  at  the  island  store 
to  receive  a  telegram. 

"I  know  what  it  is!"  exclaimed  Barney 
Kelly.  "'All  Saints'  is  going  to  outbid  'The 
Apostles'  for  you.  You  're  the  rising  young 
beggar." 

He  wandered  down  with  Philip  to  the  store 
and  loitered  about  outside  talking  to  Matt 
Blake.  When  Philip  reappeared,  it  was  with  a 
hurried  air. 

232 


THE  WILL 

"Want  anything  in  Boston  ?"  he  asked. 

"Of  course,  we  do  —  the  Brahms,  but 
what's  up  ?" 

"I've  got  to  go.  Wire  from  Miss  Wilbur." 

"Aha,"  said  Kelly,  following  Philip's  long 
strides  to  the  express  wagon  which  Blake  was 
just  mounting. 

"No,  no,  no,"  returned  Philip.  "Naught 
personal.  No  such  luck.  Hello,  Matt,  going 
up-along?" 

"Yes." 

"  See  you  later,  Kelly,  I  have  to  go  up  to 
Miss  Burridge's."  And  Philip  jumped  into 
the  seat  beside  the  driver. 

"No,  you  guessed  wrong.  You  're  going 
to  see  me  right  along,"  returned  Barney? 
hopping  up  on  the  tail  of  the  wagon  and  let- 
ting his  feet  hang  over,  while  he  whistled 
cheerily. 


CHAPTER  XV 

A   SUDDEN    JOURNEY 

"  I  HAVE  to  get  the  afternoon  boat,  Matt, "  ex- 
plained Philip.  "Miss  Wilbur  wants  me  to 
bring  the  Gayne  boy  to  Boston  in  a  hurry. " 

Blake  looked  around  alertly  as  his  horse 
pulled  slowly  up  the  hill  to  the  road.  "Miss 
Wilbur?"  he  repeated.  "Why  didn't  his 
uncle  send  for  him  ?  He  is  there. " 

"Is  he?"  asked  Philip  carelessly.  "I  did 
n't  know  the  island  had  been  deprived  of  his 
artistic  presence." 

"Yes.  You  bet  he  lit  out  when  he  saw  by 
the  paper  that  the  millionaire  he  's  had  his 
eye  on  was  dead."  Blake  shook  his  head. 
"There  must  be  something  doing  or  Miss 
Wilbur  would  n't  be  sending  for  the  kid. " 

"Oh,  you  know  she  and  Mrs.  Lowell  made 
a  protege  of  him.  My  idea  is  they  want  to 
give  him  some  kind  of  a  treat,  but  I  must  say 
I  'm  surprised  at  the  importance  she  seems  to 
put  on  my  bringing  him  —  dead  or  alive,  as 
you  might  say.  She  says  if  he  holds  back, 
through  fear  of  his  uncle's  displeasure,  to  tell 
the  boy  his  uncle  is  there. " 

"Oh,  yes,  he  's  there,  believe  me.  Keep  it 

234 


A  SUDDEN  JOURNEY 


under  your  hat,  but  that  old  souse  has  got  it 
all  fixed  that  the  boy  is  the  grandson  of  that 
Herbert  Loring  who  has  just  died,  and  that 
he  's  going  to  get  a  slice  o'  the  money.  Now 
you  might  as  well  know,  Phil,  as  long  as 
you're  doing  the  errand,  that  Gayne's  a 
skunk.  He  's  counting  on  shutting  that  boy 
up  and  gettin'  the  money  himself.  He  told  me 
so  one  time  when  he  was  half-seas  over.  Be- 
lieve me,  I  feel  sorry  for  that  kid.  If  he  ever 
had  any  spirit,  he  's  had  it  squeezed  out  of 
him.  By  George,  I  'd  like  to  have  those  ladies 
know  Gayne's  plans." 

"They  certainly  must  be  greatly  inter- 
ested in  the  boy  to  take  all  this  trouble, "  said 
Philip.  "  I  knew  they  were  very  much  stirred 
up  over  Gayne's  treatment  of  Bert,  but  I 
don't  know  whether  they  're  aware  of  how 
far  he  intends  to  carry  it.  I  'm  glad  you  Ve 
told  me  this.  I  fancy  we  shall  find  that  their 
plan  is  to  give  the  boy  a  show  or  two  and  some 
ice-cream  instead  of  a  fortune.  Bert  Gayne, 
Herbert  Loring's  heir!"  scoffed  Philip. 
"Don't  make  me  laugh.  My  lip's  cracked. 
However,  I  '11  oblige  those  two  corking  women 
and  bring  him  to  them,  by  the  scruff  of  the 
neck,  if  necessary.  Ever  see  the  Copley- 
Plaza,  Matt  ?  If  you  did,  you  can  make  a 

235 


THE  KEY  NOTE 


picture  of  me  making  a  grand  entrance  there 
with  Bert. " 

"I  do  feel  sorry  for  that  kid,"  repeated 
Blake  with  feeling. 

"So  do  I,  and  after  what  you  say,  I  'm 
wondering  why  Gayne  is  keeping  himself  in 
the  background  and  letting  the  goddess  Diana 
take  charge." 

"  I  wish  her  luck, "  said  Matt  emphatically. 
"I  wish  her  luck." 

Arrived  where  the  road  branches  away  to 
the  Inn,  Philip  and  his  friend  left  the  wagon 
and  struck  off  through  the  field.  Halfway 
across  they  met  Miss  Emerson,  walking 
triumphantly  between  Mr.  Pratt  and  Mr. 
Evans,  a  parasol  over  her  shoulder.  It  is  not 
well  to  sun  soft  ripples  of  hair,  when  the  head 
that  grew  them  is  far  across  the  seas. 

"Good-morning,"  she  cried  gayly;  "we  're 
going  to  the  post-office.  Can  we  do  anything 
for  you  ? " 

"Thank  you,"  said  Barney.  "We  Ve  just 
come  from  there.  You  might  write  me  a 
letter  or  two,  Miss  Emerson,  while  you  're 
waiting.  I  've  been  neglected  since  I  Ve  been 
here." 

"I  shall  be  delighted,"  she  returned,  re- 
garding his  tanned  face  and  permanent  wave 
236 


A  SUDDEN  JOURNEY 


with  high  approval.  "  I  love  to  write.  I  even 
like  pencil  and  paper  games,  verbarium,  and 
crambo,  and  all  those.  I  Ve  been  trying  to 
convert  these  men.  I  wish  you  would  both 
come  up  and  spend  the  evening  and  let  me 
show  you  how  much  fun  it  is." 

There  was  a  wild  look  in  the  grave  faces  of 
her  escorts  which  advised  caution. 

"You  're  always  so  kind,  Miss  Emerson," 
said  Kelly. 

"Shall  we  see  you  at  dinner?"  she  asked. 

"Depends  on  how  good  your  eyes  are," 
said  Philip  pleasantly.  "  We  dine  at  home  and 
then  I  'm  off  for  Boston." 

"Really?  How  can  you  bear  to  leave 
here!"  Miss  Emerson  waved  her  parasol  as 
the  young  men  nodded  and  passed  on. 

"I  think  that  Mr.  Kelly  is  perfectly  de- 
lightful," she  said  as  they  pursued  their  way. 
"So  full  of  fun  always."  Then  she  proceeded 
to  tell  her  captives  how  many  words  could 
be  made  from  the  one:  c-a-r-p-e-t. 

Philip  and  Barney  walked  around  to  the 
front  of  the  Inn  and  there  were  Veronica  and 
the  unconscious  young  Herbert,  leaning  over 
the  sweet-pea  bed.  Veronica  was  using  the 
trowel  and  the  boy  was  weeding.  He  glanced 
up  under  his  lashes,  then  went  on  with  his 

237 


THE  KEY  NOTE 


work.  Veronica  rose  and  welcomed  the  ar- 
rivals. 

"You  see,  Aunt  Priscilla  keeps  us  at  It,  Mr. 
Barrison.  She  is  n't  going  to  have  your  gar- 
den neglected,  and  just  look  at  the  buds." 

"Fine.  In  another  week  they'll  be  a 
show." 

"And  a  smell,"  said  Barney  fervently.  "I 
adore  them.  You  look  rather  sweet-peaish 
yourself,  Miss  Veronica,"  he  added,  regarding 
her  gingham  gown  of  fine  pink-and-white 
checks.  "Do  you  know  you  're  going  to  have 
me  on  your  hands  the  next  few  days  ?" 

"What's  going  to  happen?"  asked  Ver- 
onica. 

"There  is  going  to  be  a  dance  at  the  hall 
to-night,"  suggested  Barney. 

"  I  know  it,"  returned  Veronica.  "  Can  you 
dance  ? " 

Barney  looked  at  her  reproachfully.  "It 's 
a  land  sport.  How  can  you  ask  ?  A  duck  can 
swim  and  Kelly  can  dance.  Will  you  take  me  ? 
I  'm  shy." 

"If  Mr.  Barrison  will  allow  it,"  said  Ver- 
onica with  a  demure  glance  at  Philip. 

"Not  a  word  to  Puppa.  I  promise,"  he  said. 

"What  a  pity  Miss  Diana  isn't  here!" 
she  exclaimed. 

238 


A  SUDDEN  JOURNEY 

"I  shall  see  her  to-morrow,"  returned 
Philip. 

"You  going  to  Boston  ?" 

"'M-h'm." 

"That 's  what  I  'm  telling  you,"  said  Kelly. 
"You  must  n't  allow  me  to  get  lonely.  We  '11 
row  in  the  cove." 

"Really  go  near  the  water?"  replied  Ver- 
onica, laughing  incredulously. 

"Yes.  Aunt  Maria  is  stuffing  me  like  a 
Thanksgiving  turkey.  No  tennis,  I  just 
natchelly  had  to  get  a  boat  —  without  a 
motor,  be  it  well  understood." 

"That 's  fun,"  said  Veronica,  her  eyes 
shining.  She  hoped  Philip  would  stay  away 
indefinitely.  "If  Mr.  Kelly  could  really 
dance  — " 

Meanwhile  Philip  had  stood  watching  the 
boy's  slender  hands  pulling  out  weeds. 

"Are  n't  you  going  to  speak  to  me,  Bert  ?" 

"I  —  yes.  How  do  you  do  ?"  The  lad  was 
so  used  to  being  overlooked  by  everybody 
except  Mrs.  Lowell  and  Diana  that  Philip's 
question  surprised  him  and  he  rose  and  looked 
at  him. 

"Do  you  miss  Mrs.  Lowell  and  Miss  Wil- 
bur ?"  asked  Philip. 

"Yes." 

239 


THE  KEY  NOTE 


"His  uncle  has  gone,  too,"  said  Veronica. 
"We  have  had  some  good  times  all  alone, 
have  n't  we,  Bert  ?  He  is  learning  to  play 
croquet  and  he  helps  me  with  the  garden.'' 

The  boy  regarded  her  in  silence  and  with  no 
change  of  expression.  Philip  thought  or  im- 
agined that  in  his  dull,  undeveloped  way  he 
resented  the  girl's  kindly  tone  of  patronage. 
He  caught  the  lad's  eye  again. 

"I  am  going  to  see  Mrs.  Lowell  and  Miss 
Wilbur.  Would  you  like  to  go  with  me  to  see 
them?" 

Color  stole  up  into  Bert's  face  and  he 
brushed  the  clinging  soil  from  his  hands. 

"Yes.  —No,"  he  said. 

"I  am  going  to  Boston  this  afternoon," 
continued  Philip,  in  a  quiet,  matter-of-fact 
tone.  "The  ladies  would  like  to  have  you 
come  with  me."  '  f 

"No,"  returned  the  boy.  "I  have  to  —  to 
wait  here  for  —  for  Uncle  Nick. " 

"Oh,  he  is  there,  too,"  returned  Philip. 
"They  have  made  some  plan.  We  shall  be 
all  together  there  just  as  we  were  here.  It 
won't  take  you  long  to  get  ready.  I  '11  help 
you." 

"No,"  said  the  boy  breathlessly.  "Uncle 
Nick—" 


240 


A  SUDDEN  JOURNEY 


"But  Mrs.  Lowell  wants  you." 

"No.  Uncle  Nick  doesn't  want  —  Mrs. 
Lowell - 

"Oh,  boy,  you  know  Mrs.  Lowell  would  n't 
ask  you  to  do  anything  that  would  get  you 
into  any  trouble,"  said  Philip  pleasantly. 
"Perhaps  your  uncle  has  decided  not  to  come 
back  to  the  island.  At  any  rate,  they  want 
you  there  in  Boston  and  they  sent  me  a  tele- 
gram asking  me  to  bring  you.  So  it  is  up  to 
us  to  do  what  they  say.  Don't  you  think  so  ? 
Come  upstairs  and  I  '11  help  you  get  ready." 

The  boy's  stolid  habit  of  obedience  stood 
Philip  in  good  stead  now.  With  heightened 
color,  but  no  other  change  in  his  face,  he  fol- 
lowed to  his  room,  washed  his  face  and  hands, 
and  got  into  his  shabby  best  while  Philip 
found  a  comb  and  brush  and  toothbrush,  and 
put  them  into  a  paper  parcel.  Returning 
downstairs,  they  found  Veronica  consuming 
with  curiosity,  but  considerably  entertained 
by  her  future  dance  partner,  who  was  teach- 
ing her  a  new  step  by  means  of  his  blunt 
finger-tips  on  the  porch  rail. 

"I  'm  going  to  take  Bert  home  to  dinner 
with  me,  Veronica.  So  say  good-bye  and 
expect  us  when  you  see  us.  Where  's  Miss 
Burridge?" 

241 


THE  KEY  NOTE 


"Oh,  Aunt  Priscilla!"  shouted  Veronica 
at  the  kitchen  door.  "Come  out.  Bertie 
Gayne  is  going  to  Boston  with  Mr.  Barrison." 

Miss  Burridge  emerged  wiping  her  hands 
on  a  towel.  The  other  went  to  meet  her. 

"How  nice!"  she  said,  beaming.  "What  a 
nice  outing  for  Bertie.  That 's  real  clever  of 
you,  Philip.  How  did  you  happen  to  think 
of  it?" 

"Well,  his  friends  in  Boston  want  him," 
said  Philip,  and  he  administered  a  wink  which 
Miss  Burridge  understood  sufficiently  to 
postpone  a  catechism  until  later.  The  boy 
allowed  her  and  Veronica  to  shake  his  passive 
hand  in  bidding  him  good-bye  and  then  he 
went  away  with  his  companions  with  no 
further  questioning. 

When  they  were  gone,  Miss  Burridge  ex- 
claimed her  astonishment. 

"Mr.  Barrison  received  a  wire,  that 's  all 
I  know,"  said  Veronica.  "The  youngster  *s 
in  mortal  terror  of  his  uncle,  but  Mr.  Bar- 
rison told  him  his  uncle  was  there  and  it  was 
all  right.  Miss  Wilbur  or  else  Mrs.  Lowell 
sent  the  telegram.  Sort  of  queer  they  should 
be  hobnobbing  with  old  Nick,  but  perhaps 
he  let  them  send  the  wire  to  save  expense." 

Philip  made  conscientious  efforts  to  enter- 
242 


A  SUDDEN  JOURNEY 


tain  his  young  charge  on  their  trip.  In  Port- 
land, where  they  spent  the  night,  he  bought 
some  magazines,  naturally  guessing  that  the 
more  filled  with  pictures  they  were  the  bet- 
ter, and  he  was  puzzled  at  the  evident  shrink- 
ing from  the  illustrations  that  the  boy 
displayed. 

"Something  seriously  off  with  the  poor 
little  nut,"  he  thought.  "Any  boy  likes  to 
look  at  pictures." 

So  he  left  him  in  peace  and  let  him  stare 
apathetically  from  the  car  window  all  the 
way  to  Boston,  or  doze  in  his  corner. 

Philip  wired  Diana  just  before  they  took 
the  train,  and  she  ordered  luncheon  to  be 
served  in  her  rooms.  She  wished  very  much 
that  some  kind  turn  of  Fortune's  wheel  would 
call  her  mother  forth  to  the  shops  that  morn- 
ing, but  by  reason  of  the  fragments  Mrs.  Wil- 
bur overheard  passing  between  her  child  and 
Mrs.  Lowell  or  the  lawyer,  her  curiosity  as 
to  this  waif  who  might  be  going  to  carry  on 
the  Loring  fortunes  became  sufficiently  vivid 
to  determine  her  to  remain  where  she  could 
oversee  all  that  her  daughter  did. 

"Who  did  you  say  is  bringing  the  boy  on  ? " 
she  asked  Diana  that  morning. 

"His  name  is  Barrison." 

243 


THE  KEY  NOTE 


"You  wired  him  to  do  this  ?" 

"Yes,  Mamma." 

"How  could  you  ask  it  ?  Is  he  a  servant  ?" 

"No,  Mamma,  he  is  a  professional  singer 
taking  his  vacation  at  the  island." 

Mrs.  Wilbur  looked  at  the  girl  closely. 
"You  must  have  become  rather  friendly  with 
him  to  ask  such  a  favor  ?" 

Mrs.  Lowell  glanced  up  from  a  glove  she 
was  mending.  "Everybody  is  friendly  at  the 
island,  Mrs.  Wilbur.  It  is  one  of  the  assets  of 
the  simple  life.  As  one  of  the  men  at  the  Inn 
said:  *  Every  time  you  go  out  the  door,  you 
wade  up  to  your  knees  in  the  milk  of  human 
kindness." 

Mrs.  Wilbur  regarded  her  coldly.  "An  in- 
experienced schoolgirl  cannot  discriminate," 
she  said.  "I  felt  all  the  time  that  Diana 
should  not  go  there." 

Her  dominating  tone  was  significant  of  the 
relation  she,  contrary  to  the  experience  of 
most  American  mothers,  had  succeeded  in 
retaining  with  her  daughter.  The  average 
American  girl  of  Diana's  age  would  have  had 
no  difficulty  in  telling  her  mother  that  the 
expected  boy  would  be  embarrassed  by  the 
presence  of  a  stranger  and  requesting  her, 
more  or  less  agreeably,  to  return  to  her  apart- 
244 


A  SUDDEN  JOURNEY 


ments.  Not  so  Diana.  Her  mother  plied  her 
now  with  additional  questions  about  Herbert 
Loring's  heir. 

"For  mercy's  sake,"  said  Mrs.  Wilbur  at 
last,  "I  should  judge  from  what  you  say  that 
the  boy  is  n't  far  off  melancholia." 

Mrs.  Lowell  sighed  unconsciously.  Mrs. 
Wilbur  heard  her,  but  did  not  understand  the 
reason  for  it. 

"Well,  don't  ask  me  to  lunch  with  him. 
I  am  sure  he  would  make  me  nervous,"  added 
the  lady. 

"  I  think  it  quite  likely  he  would,  Mamma," 
said  her  daughter  dutifully,  one  of  her  prob- 
lems disappearing.  "There  certainly  will  be 
an  interesting  evolution  observable  in  him 
very  soon,  but  just  at  first  his  limitations 
might  annoy  you." 

"Well,  I  '11  just  stay  long  enough  to  look  at 
him  and  then  I  will  go,"  returned  Mrs.  Wilbur. 


CHAPTER  XVI 

THE   NEW  CLIENT 

SHE  used  her  lorgnette  upon  the  pair  of 
guests  when  they  were  ushered  in,  but  her  in- 
terest in  the  silent  boy  was  quickly  trans- 
ferred to  the  tall,  attractive  blond  man  with 
the  flashing  smile  and  sparkling  eyes,  who 
greeted  her  daughter  with  such  accustomed 
friendliness. 

"Mamma,  may  I  present  Mr.  Barrison," 
said  Diana  serenely. 

Philip's  smile  vanished  and  he  bowed.  His 
manner,  Mrs.  Wilbur  thought,  was  unpleas- 
antly good. 

"And  this  is  Herbert  Gayne,  Mamma," 
went  on  Diana. 

The  boy's  eyes  roved  to  the  plump  lady, 
who  came  forward  and  took  his  hand. 

"I  knew  your  grandfather,  my  dear  child," 
she  said,  and  she  glanced  over  his  shabby 
figure,  appalled  that  the  name  of  Loring 
could  ever  fall  so  low. 

Bertie  said  nothing.  What  did  the  lady 
mean  by  talking  about  his  grandfather  ?  No 
one  but  his  mother  had  ever  done  that. 

A  slight  smile  touched  his  lips  as  Mrs. 
246 


THE  NEW  CLIENT 


Lowell  greeted  him,  and  then  he  looked  over 
.his  shoulder  and  all  about  the  flower-strewn 


room. 

M 


Your  uncle  is  not  here,"  she  said  quietly. 
"He  isn't  coming,  Bertie.  We  are  going  to 
have  lunch  alone." 

The  boy's  melancholy  eyes  lifted  to  hers 
questioningly.  She  nodded  reassuringly. 

"Mr.  Barrison,  this  is  the  key  to  Bert's 
room,"  said  Diana.  "Will  you  go  up  with 
him  and  then  return  here  ?  Luncheon  will 
be  ready." 

Philip  took  the  key,  and,  wondering,  es- 
corted his  charge  to  the  elevator.  "Bert's 
room,"  he  said  to  himself.  When  they  ar- 
rived there,  the  flowers  on  the  dresser  caused 
him  to  remember  Matt  Blake's  absurd  ac- 
count, and  he  felt  his  first  questioning  as  to 
whether  ice-cream  and  a  show  or  two  did 
really  cover  the  plans  of  these  ladies  for 
the  boy.  "But  where  is  Uncle  Nick?"  was 
his  mental  query. 

Herbert,  second,  looked  about  his  bath- 
room. He  had  never  seen  anything  in  the 
slightest  degree  like  it. 

"Treating  you  pretty  well,  are  n't  they,  old 
man  ? "  said  Philip,  opening  his  bag  and  taking 
out  the  boy's  worn  brush  and  broken  comb. 

247 


THE  KEY  NOTE 


"Uncle  Nick  will  be  mad,"  said  Bert. 

"I  heard  Mrs.  Lowell  say  that  he  was  n't 
coming,"  remarked  Philip. 

"Of  course  —  he'll  come,"  returned  the 
boy.  "And  he  '11  —  he  '11  beat  me." 

"Bet  you  a  thousand  dollars  he  won't," 
said  Philip.  "Have  you  any  money  with 
you?" 

The  boy  felt  in  his  pockets  and  brought 
forth  a  penny. 

"That's  all  right,"  said  Philip  gayly.  "If 
your  Uncle  Nick  beats  you,  I  '11  give  you  a 
thousand  dollars.  If  he  does  n't,  you  are 
to  give  me  that  penny.  Understand?" 

Philip's  smile  was  infectious.  The  corners 
of  the  boy's  mouth  twitched  a  little.  The 
flowers  on  the  dresser  smelled  sweet,  so  did 
the  soap  he  was  using.  It  was  all  like  a  won- 
derful dream,  but  over  its  brightness  hung 
a  dark  cloud:  Uncle  Nick. 

"All  right,"  he  said  vaguely. 

"  Say,  make  it  snappy,  boy.  I  'm  as  hungry 
as  a  bear,  are  n't  you  ?  Here  's  a  nailbrush. 
Better  use  it." 

Bert  hurried,  and  finally  dried  his  hands 
and  brushed  his  hair  obediently.  As  much  as 
he  noticed  anybody  he  had  always  noticed 
and  liked  Philip  from  the  day  that  he  watched 

248 


THE  NEW  CLIENT 


him  paint  the  Inn  sign,  and  now,  in  spite  of 
his  apprehensions,  he  felt  some  stimulation 
from  the  company  of  this  big  strong  man  who 
was  going  to  give  him  a  thousand  dollars  if 
Uncle  Nick  should  beat  him. 

While  he  was  brushing  his  hair,  the  tele- 
phone rang.  Philip  answered  it.  It  was  Diana 
speaking. 

"I  want  to  thank  you  so  much  for  doing 
this  errand  for  us.  I  know  you  must  be  mys- 
tified by  the  urgency  of  my  wire,  and  this  is 
my  best  way  to  tell  you  in  a  few  words  what 
has  occurred.  You  can  see  that  the  matter  is 
confidential,  for  time  and  labor  and  the  law 
will  be  necessary  to  adjust  matters,  but  I 
feel  we  owe  it  to  you  to  tell  you  all.  Of  course, 
the  boy  knows  nothing  as  yet  —  " 

When  Philip  finally  turned  from  the  tele- 
phone, he  met  his  companion's  troubled  gaze, 
the  hairbrush  hung  suspended  in  the  air. 

"Was  it  Uncle  Nick  ?"  he  asked. 

"No,"  returned  Philip.  He  continued  to 
sit  still  for  a  minute,  regarding  the  uncon- 
scious millionaire  with  the  penny  in  the  pocket 
of  his  outgrown  trousers.  "It's  all  right, 
old  man.  Miss  Wilbur  wants  us  to  come 
down  to  lunch,  that 's  all." 

As  they  went  to  the  elevator  to  descend, 
249 


THE  KEY  NOTE 


the  boy  spoke  again:  "Uncle  Nick  hates  — 
he  hates  Mrs.  Lowell,"  he  said. 

"Good  thing  he  is  n't  coming,  then,  is  n't 
it?"  returned  Philip. 

"But  he'll  —  he  will  come  sometime," 
said  Bert  with  conviction. 

Arrived  at  Diana's  suite,  they  found  lunch- 
eon ready  to  be  served.  Mrs.  Wilbur  had 
vanished,  not  without  some  uneasy  comments 
upon  Philip,  which  Diana  had  answered  with 
such  utter  serenity  as  to  quiet  any  suspicion 
she  might  have  entertained  that  there  was 
something  personal  in  her  child's  extraordi- 
nary attachment  to  the  wilderness. 

The  four  sat  down  to  the  charming  little 
meal,  and,  in  spite  of  the  boy's  unconquer- 
able apprehensions,  he  ate  pretty  well,  as  he 
sat  there  opposite  Philip  and  between  Mrs. 
Lowell  and  Diana. 

The  former  asked  him  about  the  garden 
and  the  croquet  ground,  while  Philip  addressed 
himself  to  Diana,  who  wore  the  gray  gown 
with  a  rose  at  the  belt,  although  she  had  felt 
she  could  never  put  it  on  again.  The  contents 
of  a  suitcase  do  not  admit  of  much  variety  of 
costume. 

"I'm  almost  dumb  with  surprise  at  your 
news,"  he  said. 

250 


THE  NEW  CLIENT 


"Of  course  you  would  be." 

"Does  the  ogre  know  of  the  arrival  of  rela- 
tives?" 

"He  has  not  the  least  suspicion  of  it.  He 
will  be  told  to-morrow." 

"Can  a  can  be  tied  to  him  ?" 

Bert  was  telling  about  weeding  the  garden 
with  Veronica,  and  Diana  leaned  a  little  to- 
ward Philip.  "What  —  what  was  your  ques- 
tion?" 

Philip  smiled.  "I  asked  if  it  would  be  pos- 
sible to  eliminate  the  gentleman." 

"I  think  so.  Mr.  Loring's  lawyer  is,  of 
course,  attending  to  the  whole  matter  and  is 
to  see  him  for  the  second  time  to-morrow. 
Does  any  one  doubt  that  truth  is  stranger 
than  fiction  ?" 

"No."  Philip  looked  across  at  Mrs.  Lowell 
and  the  sweet  regard  she  was  bending  upon 
the  boy,  who  was  trying  in  his  hesitating  way 
to  tell  her  something  about  the  beach. 

Bert  put  his  hand  in  his  pocket,  and  Philip 
wondered  if  he  were  going  to  produce  his  cap- 
ital, but  instead  he  drew  forth  a  little  yellow 
stone  and  offered  it  to  his  friend. 

"That  is  unusually  lovely,"  she  said,  and 
held  it  up  to  the  light  before  she  handed  it 
back. 

251 


THE  KEY  NOTE 


"No,  it  is  for  you,"  said  the  boy.  Sad  as  he 
may  have  maintained  that  it  made  him  to  be 
in  this  lady's  company,  her  gentle  presence 
was  irresistible  to  him,  and  his  face,  as  he 
handed  back  to  her  the  little  stone,  had  a  more 
interested  expression  than  his  friends  had  ever 
seen  it  wear. 

"  It  is  to  go  —  with  the  others  in  —  in  a 
bottle,"  he  said. 

"It  is  almost  too  nice  for  that.  I  think  this 
is  a  little  gem.  Supposing  I  take  it  to  a  lapi- 
dary, a  man  who  polishes  stones,  and  have 
it  made  into  a  scarf-pin  for  you." 

"No,  for  you,"  said  the  boy. 

Philip  and  Diana  exchanged  a  look. 

"There  is  'the  greatest  thing  in  the  world' 
working  again,"  he  said. 

They  had  just  finished  dessert  when  Miss 
Wilbur  was  called  to  the  telephone. 

"Ask  him  to  come  up  to  my  room,"  she 
answered. 

"Is  it  — Uncle  Nick?"  asked  Bert,  his 
light  extinguished. 

"No,"  returned  Mrs.  Lowell,  smiling  re- 
assuringly. "You  must  remember  I  told  you 
he  is  not  coming." 

Philip  gave  the  boy  his  gay  smile.  "Bert 
thought  he  was  going  to  make  a  thousand 

252 


dollars,"  he  said;  but  the  rusty  springs  of  the 
lad's  mind  could  not  respond  quickly.  He 
looked  at  the  young  man  questioningly. 
"Don't  you  remember,"  added  Philip,  "we 
have  a  bet  up,  one  thousand  dollars  to  a 
cent?" 

The  boy  did  not  answer.  He  kept  his  eyes 
fixed  on  the  door.  Nothing  which  could  be 
said  was  able  entirely  to  quiet  the  appre- 
hension that  his  uncle  would  walk  in  upon 
him,  surrounded  as  he  was  by  forbidden 
companions,  and  a  luxury  which  his  tyrant 
had  not  been  invited  to  share. 

"The  gentleman  who  is  coming  to  call  on 
us  is  one  who  knew  your  mother,"  said  Mrs. 
Lowell.  "You  will  like  to  meet  him." 

"Is  he  —  is  he  angry  with  her,  too  ?"  asked 
the  boy  quickly. 

"No,  dear  child,"  returned  Mrs.  Lowell, 
compassion  surging  through  her  for  this  young 
life  which  knew  so  much  of  anger  and  so  little 
of  anything  else. 

The  noiseless  waiters  were  removing  all 
signs  of  the  luncheon  when  the  door  opened 
and  Luther  Wrenn  entered. 

As  soon  as  he  had  greeted  the  ladies  and 
Philip  had-  been  introduced,  his  smooth- 
shaven,  keen  face  at  once  centered  on  the 

253 


THE  KEY  NOTE 


boy.    Mrs.  Lowell,  her  hand  on  Bert's  arm, 
guided  him  to  stand. 

"This  is  Herbert  Gayne,  Mr.  Wrenn,  and 
this  is  your  mother's  friend,  Bertie." 

The  boy's  plaintive,  spiritless  gaze  and  the 
passive  hand  which  the  lawyer  took  bore  out 
all  he  had  heard  of  him,  but  Mrs.  Lowell's 
expressive  face  was  courageous  and  the  law- 
yer sat  down  beside  Herbert  Loring's  heir 
determined  not  to  be  outdone  by  her  in  hope- 
fulness. Of  course,  he  had  been  painstakingly 
told  every  detail  concerning  the  boy  which 
Mrs.  Lowell  had  discovered,  and  it  was  a  very 
kindly  look  with  which  he  regarded  his  new 
client  as  they  were  seated  near  together. 

"I  brought  my  introduction  with  me, 
Herbert,"  he  said,  and  feeling  in  a  breast- 
pocket he  drew  forth  the  card  photograph 
which  had  yesterday  been  put  into  his  hands. 

Color  streamed  over  the  boy's  face  when 
he  saw  it.  "It  is  —  it  is  like  one  I  lost," 
he  said,  and  he  held  it  between  his  hands, 
studying  it. 

"You  shall  have  this  one,  then,"  said  Mr. 
Wrenn.  "I  was  fond  of  your  mother,  Her- 
bert." 

"They  were  angry  with  her,"  said  the  boy, 
and  his  lip  quivered  at  some  memory ., 
254 


THE  NEW  CLIENT 


"Yes,  her  father  felt  very  badly  because 
she  went  away  from  him,  but  he  has  gone  to 
her  now.  Did  you  know  that  ? " 

The  boy  lifted  his  eyes  to  the  thin,  kindly 
face.  "No,"  he  said. 

"Yes,"  went  on  Mr.  Wrenn  quietly.  "Her 
father  has  gone  to  her  in  that  pleasant  world 
where  she  is." 

"I  want  to  go,"  burst  forth  the  boy,  hold- 
ing the  picture  tightly. 

"All  in  good  time,"  returned  the  lawyer. 
"You  have  some  work  to  do  for  her  here 
first." 

"Do  you  mean  —  weed  the  garden  ?" 

"I  mean  quite  a  lot  of  very  pleasant  things. 
I  '11  tell  you  about  them  later." 

"But  Uncle  Nick  won't  —  won't  let  me. 
He  —  I  don't  know  whether  I  can  hide  this 
picture."  A  sudden  panic  seemed  to  seize  the 
boy,  and  he  looked  toward  the  door.  It  was 
not  possible  that  his  uncle  would  not  come 
in  upon  all  these  totally  forbidden  proceed- 
ings. 

"  See  here,  Herbert,"  —  Mr.  Wrenn  leaned 
toward  the  lad,  speaking  very  kindly.  "I 
think  it  quite  likely  that  you  will  never  see 
your  uncle  again." 

Some   thought   made  the   boy's  eyes    di- 

255 


THE  KEY  NOTE 


late.    "He  has  n't — gone  where  —  where  my 
mother  is  —  has  he  ?" 

"No." 

"I'm— I'm  glad.  He'd— he'd  spoil  hea- 
ven," declared  Bertie  earnestly. 

Luther  Wrenn  nodded  slowly.  "An  ex- 
cellent description,"  he  said.  The  three  ob- 
servers of  the  interview  smiled.  "Do  you 
think  you  might  adopt  me  in  his  place  ? " 
added  the  lawyer. 

"He  —  he  would  n't  let  me.  He'll  come," 
said  the  boy  with  conviction. 

"Now,  Herbert,"  said  Mr.  Wrenn,  with  re- 
assuring calm,  "I  know  more  about  this  than 
you  do.  I  talked  with  your  uncle  yesterday 
and  I  think  he  will  give  you  to  me." 

The  boy's  lips  fell  apart  and  he  stared  at 
the  speaker  gravely. 

"To  me,  and  to  Mrs.  Lowell.  How  would 
you  like  that?" 

It  was  evident  that  this  information  could 
not  be  credited  entirely,  but  the  boy  glanced 
around  at  Mrs.  Lowell,  who  still  sat  close  be-, 
side  him,  and  she  looked  as  if  she  believed 
this  marvel.  Unconsciously  he  pressed  the 
picture  against  his  breast.  Luther  Wrenn  re- 
garded the  thin  wrists  and  ankles  protruding 
from  the  worn  coat  and  trousers. 

2^6 


THE  NEW  CLIENT 


"Have  you  your  sketch  of  your  mother  ?" 
asked  Mrs.  Lowell.  "Will  you  show  it  to  Mr. 
Wrenn?" 

The  boy  put  his  hand  in  a  pocket  and  drew 
out  the  small  folded  square,  and  the  lawyer 
felt  some  obstruction  in  his  throat  as  he  saw 
the  worn  tissue  paper  and  the  morsel  of  oiled 
silk  being  so  tenderly  unrolled. 

"When  I  lost  the  one  like — like  this,  I  tried 
to  —  to  make  another,"  the  boy  explained. 

Luther  Wrenn  put  on  his  eye-glasses  and 
examined  the  little  sketch.  He  looked  at  Mrs. 
Lowell  and  nodded.  "Save  this,"  he  said  to 
the  boy.  "Go  on  being  careful  of  it,  for  you 
will  always  be  glad  you  made  it,  but  you  need 
never  hide  anything  again.  Do  you  under- 
stand that  ?  We  will  get  a  case  for  this  photo- 
graph so  you  can  carry  it  in  your  pocket,  and 
I  can  have  an  enlargement  made  of  it  so  you 
can  have  it  framed  on  your  wall." 

"I  haven't  —  haven't  any  money,"  said 
Bertie,  overwhelmed  by  these  novel  prospects, 
and  convinced  that  this  kindly  visitor  must 
be  laboring  under  some  great  delusion.  "I 
just  have  —  have  one  cent,  but  —  but  I  have 
to  give  that  to  —  to  Mr.  Barrison  if  Uncle 
Nick  does  n't  —  does  n't  beat  me.  He  bet  me 
a  thousand  dollars." 

257 


THE  KEY  NOTE 


Luther  Wrenn  gave  a  queer  broken  sort  of 
laugh  and  wiped  his  eye-glasses.  "Mr.  Har- 
rison has  won,"  he  said.  "Always  pay  your 
debts,  Herbert." 

"Do  you  mean  I  —  I  shall  give  him  the 
cent?" 

"Your  last  cent,  yes.  He  was  right,  you 
see,  and  it  belongs  to  him." 

The  boy  took  out  the  penny  and,  rising 
gravely,  crossed  to  Philip  and  proffered  the 
coin. 

Philip  accepted  it  and  bowed.  "You  are 
an  honorable  gentleman,"  he  said. 

Bert  returned  quickly  to  his  chair  and 
again  possessed  himself  of  the  picture  which 
he  had  given  Mrs.  Lowell  to  hold  during  the 
financial  transaction. 

"Now,  Herbert,"  said  Mr.  Wrenn  slowly, 
"I  see  that  you  were  thinking  that  photo- 
graph cases  and  frames  cost  money.  You  will 
be  glad  to  know  that  your  grandfather  —  your 
mother's  father,  who  has  now  gone  to  her — 
has  left  you  some  of  his  money.  If  you  think  of 
anything  especial  that  you  would  like  to  have 
while  you  are  here  in  Boston,  you  can  buy  it." 

No  one  present  ever  forgot  the  boy's  face 
as  he  spoke,  looking  up  into  the  lawyer's 
eyes.  "A  pencil?"  he  said. 

258 


THE  NEW  CLIENT 


Luther  Wrenn  nodded  and  swallowed 
again.  "Yes,  pencils,  paper,  sketch-blocks, 
brushes,  paints,  anything  you  want.  Just 
tell  Mr.  Barrison.  I  think  he  will  take  you 
out  presently  and  get  you  the  clothes  you 
need  —  "  The  boy  looked  down  over  his  old 
suit,  quite  dazed,  and  more  than  ever  certain 
that  all  this  must  be  a  dream  and  that  he 
should  waken  on  his  cot  at  the  island  and  find 
the  familiar  dark  face  bending  over  him  and 
some  greeting,  like  "Get  up,  stupid,"  as- 
sailing his  ears. 

But  he  did  not  waken.  Mrs.  Lowell  put  her 
arm  around  his  shoulders  and  gave  him  a 
little  squeeze,  and  when  he  looked  up  he 
found  her  smiling  at  him. 

Mr.  Wrenn  addressed  her.  "The  more  I 
see  of  the  boy,  the  more  I  recognize  a  resem- 
blance to  his  mother."  He  rose  and  crossed 
to  Philip,  who  got  to  his  feet.  "Mr.  Barri- 
son, we  are  greatly  indebted  to  you,  and  we 
wish  to  be  more  so.  Can  you  oblige  us  by 
dressing  this  young  client  of  mine  this  after- 
noon ?" 

"Delighted,"  replied  Philip. 

"What  has  he  brought  with  him  ?" 

"A  brush  and  comb  and  toothbrush,  all 
veterans,  and  all  wounded." 

259 


THE  KEY  NOTE 


"Very  well.  If  you  will  get  for  him  every- 
thing a  boy  needs  for  the  remainder  of  the 
summer  only,  I  shall  be  greatly  obliged.  Mrs. 
Lowell  will  make  the  list,  I  am  sure,  and  you 
can  help  her  if  she  gets  lost.  Have  everything 
charged  to  me.  Here  is  my  card  with  the 
order,  and  here  is  a  check  for  your  traveling 
expenses  on  this  trip." 

"It  is  too  much,"  said  Philip  as  he  saw  the 
figure. 

"Pretty  accurate,"  said  the  lawyer.  "I  am 
calculating  that  you  will  stay  in  town  over 
one  night  at  least.  If  there  is  a  balance  you 
might  send  some  roses  to"  —  the  door  opened 
and  a  very  dignified  and  extremely  curious 
little  lady  entered :  a  quite  plump  and  not  en- 
tirely pleased  little  lady  —  "  some  roses  to 
Mrs.  Wilbur,"  finished  the  lawyer. 

"Do  you  hear  that,  Mrs.  Wilbur?"  asked 
Philip.  "Mr.  Wrenn  is  telling  me  I  may  send 
you  roses.  Is  that  one  word  for  me  and  two 
for  himself?" 

The  lady  shrugged  her  marvelously  fitted 
shoulders,  but  she  smiled.  Even  she  could 
not  help  responding  to  Philip's  vital  spark. 
"It  is  my  own  private  feeling  that  some  at- 
tention should  be  paid  to  me,"  she  returned, 
lifting  her  chin. 

260 


THE  NEW  CLIENT 


Philip  approached  her.  '*  Name  your  color ! " 
he  exclaimed  with  an  air  of  devotion. 

"I  think  it  will  be  a  real  pleasure  to  him, 
Mamma,"  said  Diana,  smiling,  "to  turn  from 
an  immersion  in  sublunary  matters  like  socks 
and  neckties  to  a  poetic  purchase." 

"Why  should  Mr.  Barrison  be  about  to 
bathe  in  socks  and  neckties?" 

"He  is  kind  enough  to  take  the  matter  off 
my  hands,  Mrs.  Wilbur,  and  make  our  young 
friend  fit,"  said  the  lawyer. 

The'" lady  lifted  her  lorgnette  and  surveyed 
the  silent  boy. 

Mr.  Wrenn  approached  him.  "Herbert, 
you  have  no  reason  to  like  the  name  of  Gayne. 
What  do  you  say  to  dropping  it  ?  What  do 
you  say  to  being  Herbert  Loring,  Second  ?" 

"If  Mrs.  Lowell  says  so,"  he  responded. 
He  might  have  said:  "What 's  in  a  name?" 
For  the  excited  color  had  settled  in  his  cheeks. 
Let  them  call  him  what  they  liked.  He  was 
going,  boldly  and  unafraid,  to  have  a  pencil. 


CHAPTER  XVII 

THE    HEIR 

LUTHER  WRENN  gave  himself  the  luxury  of 
calling  at  the  Copley-Plaza  the  next  morning,, 
perhaps  as  a  bracer  for  his  afternoon  appoint- 
ment. When  he  sent  up  his  name,  he  re- 
ceived a  summons  to  come  to  a  room  on  the 
floor  above  Diana's. 

Entering,  he  found  the  group  he  had  left 
yesterday,  minus  Mrs.  Wilbur,  chatting  and 
laughing  before  a  boy's  wardrobe  spread  out 
on  the  bed.  As  he  shook  hands  with  the  boy 
himself,  the  lawyer  looked  him  over  with 
satisfaction.  From  the  barber  to  the  haber- 
dasher, the  lad  had  evidently  been  served 
well;  and  though  pale  and  thin,  Herbert  Lor- 
ing,  Second,  stood  there  a  credit  to  his  name 
already,  and  full  of  promise  for  the  future. 
A  wardrobe  trunk  in  steamer  size  stood  at 
one  side  of  the  room  and  a  fine  suitcase  be- 
side it. 

"Is  everything  all  right,  Herbert?"  asked 
Mr.  Wrenn,  with  a  hand  on  the  boy's  shoulder 
and  his  eyes  wandering  over  the  variety  of 
apparel  laid  out  on  the  bed.  "Nothing  seems 
to  be  missing." 

262 


THE  HEIR 

"I  have  —  I  have  blue  pyjamas,"  said  the 
boy. 

"And  did  they  sleep  all  right,  eh?" 

"They  did  not,"  said  Philip.  "I  had  the 
other  room  opening  off  Bert's  bath  and  I 
prowled  once  in  a  while  to  see  how  the  land 
lay,  and  the  electric  light  was  evidently  too 
easy.  He  was  always  examining  his  box." 

"What  box  is  that  ?"  asked  Mr.  Wrenn. 

The  boy  was  keeping  lifted  eyes  on  him,  not 
quite  sure  whether  this  dispenser  of  gifts  was 
going  to  be  displeased  at  the  burning  of  mid- 
night electricity.  At  the  question  he  hurried 
to  a  table  and  brought  the  new  sketching  ma- 
terials which  had  interfered  with  his  dreams. 

Mr.  Wrenn  gave  the  boy's  shoulder  a  little 
shake  and  laughed.  "They  won't  run  away 
in  the  night,"  he  said.  "  Better  sleep  and  keep 
your  eyes  bright.  When  do  you  plan  to  return 
to  the  island,  Mrs.  Lowell?" 

She  was  sitting  with  Diana  by  the  bed, 
where  they  were  sewing  markers  on  Bert's 
new  possessions.  "If  your  afternoon  inter- 
view proves  satisfactory,  and  you  can  arrange 
that  we  shall  not  be  molested,  I  think  we 
might  go  to-morrow,"  she  replied. 

"Want  to  go  back  to  the  island,  Herbert  ?" 
asked  Mr.  Wrenn.  The  appealing  eyes,  so 

263 


THE  KEY  NOTE 


like  Helen  Loring's,  were  winning  him  more 
and  more  with  their  trustfulness. 

"I  —  I  don't  care  where  we  go  if  he  —  if 
nobody  takes  me  away  from  —  from  Mrs. 
Lowell." 

"You  dear  youngster,"  said  that  lady,  her 
swift  needle  stitching  busily. 

"Well,  it  is  my  intention  that  nobody  shall, 
for  the  present.  Of  course,  when  these  charm- 
ing ladles  hamper  themselves  with  husbands, 
it  brings  in  an  element  of  uncertainty.  What 
sort  of  a  man  is  Monroe  Lowell,  now  ?  I  sup- 
pose his  wife  is  entirely  impartial." 

Mrs.  Lowell  laughed.  "The  finest  ever," 
she  said,  "but  I  see  signs  of  impatience  begin- 
ning to  show  in  his  letters.  So  I  hope  he  will 
soon  join  us.  Probably  I  know  what  you  are 
thinking  of,  Mr.  Wrenn,  but  let  us  not  cross 
any  bridges  until  we  come  to  them.  The 
right  way  is  sure  to  open." 

The  lawyer  nodded.  "I  will  let  you  have  a 
bulletin  as  soon  as  the  final  farewells  are  said 
this  afternoon.  I  hope  to  secure  the  island 
from  further  intrusion." 

Diana  looked  up  from  her  work.  "Would 
it  not  be  well  to  offer  him  money  not  to  re- 
turn?" 

Philip,  who  was  engaged  in  snipping  the 
264 


THE  HEIR 

markers  apart,  spoke:  "If  he  comes,  I  can 
take  the  bone  of  contention  to  my  place  until 
the  hurricane  is  passed."  — 

"I  am  quite  certain  he  will  not  go,"  said 
Mrs.  Lowell  quietly. 

"Why  is  that?"  asked  Mr.  Wrenn.  "I 
must  confess  to  some  qualms  myself." 

"Because  it  is  not  right  for  him  to  go," 
said  Mrs.  Lowell. 

"  My  dear  young  lady,"  the  lawyer  smiled, 
"if  that  is  the  only  ground  for  your  belief, 
my  limited  observation  of  the  gentleman  sug- 
gests that  he  never  has  done  anything  right  in 
his  life  unless  by  accident.  But  no  money, 
Miss  Diana.  Start  that  once  with  that  indi- 
vidual and  you  will  be  purchasing  something 
from  him  at  intervals  the  rest  of  his  life.  I 
must  be  off.  Good-bye,  Herbert." 

The  boy  started.  He  had  been  hanging  over 
his  treasures  and  handling  them,  oblivious  to 
everything  around  him.  This  gentleman,  who 
knew  his  mother  and  had  showered  upon  him 
so  many  benefits,  was  looking  at  him  now 
with  kind,  serious  eyes,  and  Bert  became 
mindful  of  a  little  talk  Mrs.  Lowell  had  had 
with  him  this  morning. 

He  walked  up  to  the  lawyer  and  held  out  his 
slender  hand.  "I  thank  you  —  sir,"  he  said. 
265 


THE  KEY  NOTE 


"Good  boy.  I  will  see  you  again  before 
you  leave,"  and,  bowing  to  the  others,  Mr. 
Wrenn  went  out,  Philip  accompanying  him 
to  the  elevator. 

"Thank  you,  Mr.  Barrison,  for  your  good 
offices,"  he  said  as  they  shook  hands. 

"Never  had  so  much  fun  in  my  life,"  said 
Philip.  "Made  me  wish  I  had  half  a  dozen 
of  my  own  and  the  coin  to  treat  them  like 
that." 

The  lawyer  bent  his  heavy  brows  upon  him 
and  smiled.  "Are  events  shaping  themselves 
toward  that  end  ?  That  extremely  charming 
young  woman  who  has  been  making  you  the 
slave  of  the  lamp  is  enough  to  turn  any  man's 
head." 

Philip  flushed.  "Any  man's  head  would  be 
turned,"  he  responded  quickly,  "if  he  thought 
of  her  as  approachable.  No,  some  common 
mortal  for  me  some  day,  I  hope,  but  she  's  a 
goddess,  you  know." 

The  young  fellow  smiled  and  the  lawyer 
still  regarded  him,  and  placed  a  hand  on  his 
shoulder. 

"Never  let  anything  like  money  rob  you," 
he  said  slowly  and  writh  emphasis.  "God- 
desses have  been  known  to  stoop  to  mortals 
before  this." 


THE  HEIR 

"I  think  her  parents  would  see  to  that," 
responded  Philip,  laughing. 

The  elevator  came,  and  with  one  more  nod 
of  farewell  the  lawyer  disappeared. 

"Fierce  job  he  's  got  before  him,"  muttered 
Philip  as  he  returned  to  the  dry  goods,  re- 
fusing to  allow  his  mind  to  dwell  on  his  new 
friend's  surpassingly  ignorant  suggestions. 

Promptly  at  the  appointed  time  Nicholas 
Gayne  presented  himself  at  the  lawyer's 
office  and  was  admitted  to  the  sanctum.  His 
air  of  assurance  almost  reached  the  swagger- 
ing stage,  and  his  "How  are  you  ?"  breathed  a 
suggestion  of  a  fortifying  beverage.  Without 
waiting  for  permission,  he  fell  into  the  chair 
near  the  desk. 

"Well,  are  you  satisfied?"  he  asked  tri- 
umphantly. 

"Yes,  I  am  satisfied  that  the  boy  is  my  old 
friend's  grandson." 

"  I  knew  you  would  be.  Now,  how  soon  do 
you  think  you  can  fix  it  up  ?"/' 

"Fix  what  up?" 

"The  inheritance."  x 

"I  told  you  the  boy  was  not  mentioned  in 
the  will." 

"I  know  that,  but  what 's  the  law  for  if  it 
can't  get  justice  done?"  came  the  impatient 
267 


THE  KEY  NOTE 


question,  and  Gayne's  chin  .shot  out  bel- 
ligerently. 

"It  can  and  will  get  justice  done,"  *said 
Luther  Wrenn  slowly,  "but  it  will  take  time." 

"Oh,  of  course,  I  know  it  will,  but  you  can 
advance  money  on  a  sure  thing,  and  I'll  make 
it  worth  your  while  as  soon  as  the  cash  is  in 
my  hands." 

"In  yours?"  The  lawyer  tapped  his  desk 
with  a  paper-cutter. 

"Yes.  I  told  you  the  boy's  delicate.  He 
needs  care." 

"I'm  sure  he  does.  It  may  take  a  year  to 
straighten  out  the  matter  of  the  will." 

"It  don't  need  to,"  said  Gayne  angrily. 
"I've  had  the  expense  of  Bert  for  five  years 
and  I  ought  to  be  reimbursed  and  provided 
with  enough  money  to  care  for  him  right, 
until  he  gets  all  that 's  coming  to  him." 

Luther  Wrenn  looked  for  a  silent  minute  at 
the  dark,  impatient  face  and  thick,  powerful 
shoulders  and  hands,  and  recalled  the  boy's 
panic. 

"  I  have  obtained  a  good  deal  of  information 
as  to  the  occurrences  of  the  past  years  as  they 
affect  Mr.  Loring's  grandson,"  he  said  qui- 
etly, and  his  visitor  scowled  at  him,  startled. 

"I'm  a  poor  man,"  he  blustered.  "I  told 
268 


THE  HEIR 

you  I  had  n't  been  able  to  care  for  him 
right." 

"If  you  would  like,"  went  on  the  lawyer 
slowly,  "  to  be  relieved  of  the  boy,  I  am  willing 
to  take  charge  of  him  from  now  on  for  his 
mother's  sake." 

"For  his  mother's  sake,"  sneered  Gayne. 
"You  know  damned  well  that  it 's  because 
you  know  you  can  get  hold  of  the  money  that 
ought  to  be  his." 

"You  have  been  drinking,  Mr.  Gayne,  and 
the  reason  I  don't  have  you  put  out  of  the 
office  is  because  we  shall  never  meet  again, 
and  it  is  always  well  to  settle  matters  out  of 
court  if  possible.  I  am  going  to  tell  you,  in- 
stead of  asking  a  judge  to  do  so,  why  I  am 
taking  Helen  Loring's  boy  away  from  you." 

"Lambert  Gayne's  boy  and  my  nephew!" 
roared  Gayne.  "Where  do  you  get  that 
stuff  ?  Take  him  away  from  me,  after  all  the 
expense  — " 

"Be  quiet,  Mr.  Gayne,  or  I  shall  have  to 
forego  my  peaceful  plans.  I  have  a  man  out- 
side prepared  to  take  you;  so  it  would  be 
better  for  you  to  listen  to  me." 

Nicholas  Gayne  looked  behind  him  in  angry 
amazement. 

"What  have  you  done  for  that  helpless 
269 


THE  KEY  NOTE 


boy?"  went  on  Wrenn  quietly.  "Have  you 
endeavored  to  have  him  properly  taught  and 
cared  for?  Have  you  allowed  him  the  hap- 
piness, which  would  have  cost  you  nothing, 
of  exercising  the  talent  inherited  from  his 
mother?" 

"I'm  a  poor  man,"  —  the  declaration 
came  with  a  loud  burst.  "He  could  n't  spend 
his  time  like  a  nabob." 

"No.  So  you  took  no  pains  to  have  him 
educated.  You  allowed  him  to  be  made  to 
scrub  floors  and  wash  windows  and  do  any 
menial  work  which  a  lazy,  dissolute  woman 
could  put  upon  him.  You  allowed  a  creature 
like  Cora  to  be  his  companion,  caring  less 
than  nothing  for  the  possible  degradation  of 
the  boy's  mind  and  body." 

Nicholas  Gayne  started  up  from  his  chair, 
purple  in  the  face  with  surprise  and  fury. 

"All  this  you  did  with  the  one  single  base 
intention  of  so 'beating  down  any  sign  of  men- 
tal efficiency  in  vour  nephew  that  in  time 
you  could  get  the  handling  of  his  heritage." 

As  the  words  fell  clearly  and  concisely 
from  the  lawyer's  lips,  Nicholas  Gayne's 
muddled  brain  worked  fast.  Where  could 
this  devil  of  a  lawyer  have  learned  so  much  in 
two  days?  The  boy  was  at  the  island.  It 
270 


THE  HEIR 

must  be  the  women.  That  Mrs.  Lowell !  But 
how  could  she  have  connected  Bert  with  Her- 
bert Loring  in  the  first  place,  and  how  could  she, 
with  her  slight  opportunity,  have  elicited  so 
much  from  the  dull  boy  and  communicated 
with  Luther  Wrenn  ?  Gayne  wished  his  brain 
were  clearer,  but,  looking  at  the  stony  calm  of 
the  lawyer's  face  and  the  cold  accusation  in 
his  eyes,  he  realized  that  the  combination  of 
legal  power  and  money  made  it  very  hard  in 
instances  like  this  for  a  poor  man  like  himself 
to  get  his  rights. 

"Now,  I  will  detain  you  only  a  minute 
longer,  Mr.  Gayne.  Herbert  Loring,  Second, 
as  he  will  after  this  be  called,  is  now  at  the 
Copley-Plaza  with  friends."  Gayne  stared 
and  seized  the  back  of  the  chair  from  which 
he  had  risen,  apparently  for  support.  "I 
shall  provide  for  him  as  I  think  best.  It  is  too 
early  as  yet  to  tell  whether  your  criminal 
treatment  of  the  child  has  worked  permanent 
injury.  Time  and  the  tenderest,  wisest  care 
will  be  necessary  to  establish  that,  and,  mean- 
while, you  will  be  left  hi  freedom.  We  de- 
sire to  avoid  all  publicity,  and,  if  you  keep 
out  of  the  way  and  do  not  intrude  and  awaken 
in  the  boy  brutal  and  sad  associations,  we 
may  succeed  in  restoring  him  to  a  normal 

271 


THE  KEY  NOTE 


condition,  but,  I  assure  you,  if  you  even  show 
your  face  near  the  boy  or  interfere  in  any 
degree,  you  will  be  called  upon  to  answer 
serious  charges,  and  witnesses  will  be  easy 
to  procure." 

The  purple  had  faded  from  Nicholas  Gayne  's 
face  and  it  was  ashy  under  the  sunburn.  He 
opened  his  lips  to  speak,  but  no  sound  came. 
Mr.  Wrenn  touched  a  button  on  his  desk  and 
the  office  door  opened.  Gayne  started  and 
looked  toward  it. 

"I  feel  that  we  understand  each  other 
perfectly,  Mr.  Gayne,"  said  the  lawyer, 
pleasantly.  "Good-afternoon." 

Nicholas  Gayne  mumbled  something  and, 
moving  as  swiftly  as  his  unsteady  knees  would 
permit,  he  disappeared  from  that  office,  fear 
engulfing  all  his ,  other  emotions.  He  won- 
dered which  of  the  men  in  plain  clothes,  whom 
he  saw  moving  about  outside,  was  the  one 
who  might  have  been  his  escort. 

Luther  Wrenn  took  up  the  telephone  and 
called  Diana. 

"Mr.  Wrenn  speaking." 

An  excited  voice  answered,  all  serenity 
thrown  to  the  winds.  "Oh,  Mr.  Wrenn,  is  it 
over?" 

"Yes,  Miss  Diana,  and  very  satisfactorily. 
272 


THE  HEIR 

I  'm  a  little  tired  and  I  believe  I  won't  make 
you  another  call  to-day." 

"I'm  sure  you  must  be  tired,"  sympa- 
thetically. 

"I  just  wanted  you  and  Mrs.  Lowell  to 
know  that  you  may  plan  to  take  the  nine 
o'clock  train  for  Portland  to-morrow  morning 
with  as  much  freedom  as  if  our  precious  uncle 
had  passed  away  from  the  planet." 

"Thank  you,  thank  you." 

"And,  by  the  way,  Miss  Diana,  you  may 
tell  Mr.  Barrison,  too." 

"Oh,  of  course,  I  should." 

"Do  you  know,  I  find  him  a  very  engaging 
young  man.  Why,  why  are  your  cheeks 
blooming  so  ?  Can't  one  say  as  much  as  that 
for  relaxation  after  a  nasty  quarter  of  an 
hour?" 

A  soft  gurgle  of  laughter  went  to  the  listen- 
ing lawyer. 

"I  did  not  know  you  ever  condescended 
to  such  play,  Mr.  Wrenn." 

"Well,  don't  tell,  will  you  ?  My  best  wishes 
to  you  all,  and  especially  to  Herbert,  and  tell 
him  I  shall  come  to  the  island  to  look  him 
over  in  a  short  time." 

"Do.  Mr.  kBarrison  will  take  you  fish- 
ing." 

273 


THE  KEY  NOTE 


"Is  he  always  successful?  Does  he  know 
just  what  bait  to  use  ?" 

Another  soft  gurgle.  "You  don't  under- 
stand, Mr.  Wrenn.  He  uses  too  much  bait. 
He  catches  too  many  fish.  Good-bye.  My 
mother  has  just  come  in.  She  is  going  with 
us  to  Maine."  A  pause.  "She  hopes  to  see 
you  there.  Good-bye." 

Before  the  arrival  of  the  Copley-Plaza  con- 
tingent at  the  island,  Matt  Blake  received  the 
following  letter: 

Dear  Matt: 

You  know  the  business  that  brought  me  to 
Boston.  I  proved  my  position  all  right.  The  old 
man's  lawyer  could  n't  deny  it,  but  the  boy,  not 
being  named  in  the  will,  as,  of  course,  I  knew  he 
would  n't  be,  the  lawyer  said  it  would  take  a  long 
time  before  he  could  get  anything  for  Bert,  and 
Advised  me  to  put  the  boy  into  his  hands.  So  I  'm 
going  to  let  him  run  matters  to  suit  himself. 

I  'm  asking  you  if  you  will  be  good  enough  to 
pack  up  my  stuff  at  the  island  and  send  every- 
thing on  C.O.D.  to  the  address  on  the  card  I  en- 
close. You  know  what  I  found  at  the  farm,  but 
I  Ve  got  to  wait  till  I  can  get  some  backing  be- 
fore I  can  do  anything  about  it.  Keep  it  under 
your  hat,  though.  You  know  what  I  left  at  the 
farm,  too:  out  in  the  kitchen.  Take  that  for  your 
trouble.  I  don't  know  what  I  'm  going  to  do 
next.  What  I  do  know  is  that  a  lawyer  has  no 
more  blood  than  a  turnip,  and  that  a  man  can  go 

274 


THE  HEIR 

to  the  expense  and  trouble  of  taking  care  of  a  boy 
for  five  years  and  then  be  asked  to  hand  him  over 
to  those  that  know  he  '11  have  money,  without 
even  a  thank  you  for  all  he  has  done.  I  'm  dis- 
gusted with  the  world. 

Your  friend, 

NICHOLAS  GAYNE 

When  he  read  this,  Matt  Blake  looked  off 
thoughtfully,  his  thin  lips  twitching. 

"  I  hope  Phil  Barrison  can  tell  me  all  that 's 
between  those  lines,"  he  thought. 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

DIANA'S  IDEAL 

"COME  here,  Aunt  Priscilla,"  called  Veronica 
at  the  top  of  her  lungs.  It  was  a  joyous  call, 
and  Miss  Burridge  hurried  into  the  dining- 
room  where,  a  few  minutes  before,  she  had 
left  Veronica  sweeping,  and  found  her  stand- 
ing still  and  confronting  a  boy  who  stood, 
hat  in  hand,  while  on  the  floor  beside  him 
reposed  a  new  and  handsome  suitcase. 

"Would  you  know  him,  Aunt  Priscilla?" 

Miss  Burridge  pulled  down  her  spectacles 
and  gazed  at  the  trim  figure  with  the  immac- 
ulately brushed  and  parted  hair. 

" It  ain't  Bertie  Gayne  ?  Why,  it  is!  Where 
are  the  other  folks  ?  Somebody  has  been 
being  awful  good  to  you." 

How  could  it  be  possible  that  the  boy  they 
sent  away  a  few  days  ago  could  be  the  same 
one  who  looked  at  them  now  with  happy 
eyes  and  a  faint  smile. 

"They're   coming,"   he   answered.  "Mr. 
Blake  brought  me  up  —  in  his  wagon,  and 
the  others  had  to  wait  —  for  the  car,  and  they 
were  going  to  take  a  drive." 
276 


DIANA'S  IDEAL 


Matt  Blake  here  appeared  in  the  open  door- 
way from  the  piazza,  bearing  on  his  back  a 
shining  new  trunk. 

"Where  's  this  going?"  he  asked. 

"I'll  show  you,"  said  the  boy,  and  they 
made  a  procession  up  the  stairs,  Bert  leading 
and  the  women  bringing  up  the  rear,  full  to 
the  lips  of  questions  ready  to  pour  out  upon 
Matt,  who  was  smiling,  eyes  twinkling  under 
his  burden,  at  the  amazed  countenances  of 
Miss  Burridge  and  Veronica. 

"Where's  your  Uncle  Nick?"  asked 
Veronica  when  they  reached  the  bedroom. 

"No,"  said  Bert  quickly;  "no,  he  isn't 
coming." 

"Isn't?"  cried  Miss  Burridge  as  Blake 
set  the  trunk  down.  "Matt,  has  Mr.  Gayne 
come  into  money?" 

"This  Mr.  Gayne  has,"  returned  Blake, 
grinning  and  indicating  the  boy. 

"No,  my  name  is  n't  Gayne  any  more," 
said  Bert  gravely.  "I  am  Herbert  Loring, 
Second." 

"That  so?"  said  Matt.  "There  you  have 
it,  ladies.  You  've  read  about  the  Prince  and 
the  Pauper,  have  n't  you  ?  You  sent  away 
the  pauper  and  got  back  the  prince." 

"Yes,"  said  the  boy;  "my  grandfather 
277 


THE  KEY  NOTE 


gave  me  all  these  things  because  he  did  n't 
need  money  any  more." 

While  the  boy  spoke,  Blake  noticed  that  he 
was  looking  at  Nicholas  Gayne's  trunk. 

"Kind  o'  in  the  way,  ain't  it?  That's  a 
good  place  for  yours  to  stand.  We  '11  pull 
Mr.  Gayne's  trunk  out  here  where  I  can  pack 
it.  He  wants  me  to  send  him  all  his  things." 

Bert's  face  looked  as  if  sunlight  suddenly 
struck  it.  It  was  as  if  now  only  he  entirely 
credited  the  fact  that  there  was  nothing  to 
apprehend  in  the  way  of  a  reckoning. 

"You  are  going  to  send  all  Uncle  Nick's 
things  to  him?" 

"Yes,  everything  but  you,"  replied  Matt 
jocosely. 

"But  I  —  I  don't  belong  to  him  any 
more,"  explained  Bert  eagerly.  "He  gave  me 
to  —  to  the  lawyer." 

"Good  work,"  said  Blake,  and,  lifting  the 
lid  of  the  old  trunk,  he  fell  to  opening  the 
dresser  drawers. 

"Matt  Blake,"  said  Miss  Burridge,  "will 
you  tell  me  what  has  happened  ?" 

"Ever  hear  of  Herbert  Loring,  one  o' 
Boston's  rich  men  ?  Well,  he  died  suddenly 
and  this  boy  's  his  grandson,  and  the  lawyer 
has  persuaded  Mr.  Gayne  to  take  his  hands 

278 


DIANA'S  IDEAL 


off."  As  an  addendum  to  his  explanation, 
Matt  bestowed  upon  Miss  Burridge  a  wink 
which  seemed  to  say:  "More  anon." 

"And  Mr.  Gayne  isn't  coming  back?" 
asked  Miss  Burridge,  sundry  financial  con- 
siderations occurring  to  her. 

"I  guess  he  '11  pay  up  all  right,"  said  Blake, 
reading  her  thought.  "You  make  out  what 
he  owes.  I  '11  see  to  it.  Come  on,  Herbert 
Loring,  help  me  to  get  your  uncle's  duds 
together  so  I  won't  be  packing  any  o' 
yours." 

"That  would  n't  make  —  make  any  differ- 
ence," said  the  boy,  "because  Mrs.  Lowell 
said  for  me  not  to  wear  them  any  more." 
And  he  turned  to  with  a  will,  emptying 
dresser  and  closet  while  Matt  packed. 

"I  hear  the  motor,"  said  Veronica  sud- 
denly. 

Miss  Burridge  had  been  in  a  flutter  ever 
since  Diana's  telegram,  saying  that  her 
mother  and  maid  would  return  with  her. 
Miss  Priscilla's  outlook  on  life  was  placidly 
democratic,  but  somehow  the  prospect  of 
having  to  care  for  the  wife  of  the  steel  mag- 
nate loomed  as  something  overwhelming. 
She  and  Veronica  hurried  downstairs  to  meet 
the  guests.  Mrs.  Lowell  and  Diana  were  in 

279 


THE  KEY  NOTE 


high  spirits.  Leonie  had  fortunately  discov- 
ered some  resemblance  in  the  island  to  a 
fishing  village  of  her  childhood  and  had  sat 
with  Bill  Lindsay  on  the  front  seat  coming 
up.  He  understood  her  trim  appearance,  even 
if  half  of  what  she  said  so  volubly  was  lost 
to  him. 

The  springs  of  the  machine  were  not  remi- 
niscent of  Mrs.  Wilbur's  Rolls-Royce,  and 
her  lorgnette  had  not  yet  been  able  to  dis- 
cover what  charm  this  corner  of  the  world 
had  exercised  upon  her  daughter.  She  had 
been  predisposed,  from  her  first  view  of  Philip 
Barrison,  to  give  him  the  credit,  or  discredit; 
and  during  the  trip  from  Boston,  she  had  kept 
one  eye  upon  every  move  he  or  Diana  had 
made  toward  the  other.  But  the  examination 
had  revealed  nothing.  Philip  had  not  even 
been  assiduous  toward  herself.  She  would 
have  suspected  that  instantly.  As  a  matter 
of  fact,  almost  all  the  way  to  Portland,  he 
had  concentrated  his  attention  on  a  book  of 
Brahms'  songs,  which  were  welcomed  effu- 
sively by  a  curly-headed  Irishman  in  white 
sweater  and  trousers  who  met  them  when 
they  landed  from  the  island  steamer. 

"Is  it  the  mother  of  the  goddess,  then?" 
he  said  when  he  was  presented.  "You  lost 

280 


DIANA'S  IDEAL 


your  heart,  I'm  sure,  to  that  ride  down  the 
bay,  Mrs.  Wilbur." 

"  It  was  very  lovely.  I  should  like  to  come 
around  here  in  the  yacht  sometime.  The 
rudder  chain,  or  whatever  it  was  on  that  little 
boat,  nearly  banged  a  hole  in  my  head." 

Diana  smiled  on  Kelly.  "Mamma  has 
begun  roughing  it,  that's  all,"  she  said.  "I 
warned  her." 

Philip  had  telephoned  down  to  bespeak 
the  motor  in  order  that  the  august  Mrs.  Wil- 
bur might  not  be  obliged  to  linger  on  the 
wharf  where,  on  account  of  the  adjacent 
fish-house,  the  odors  were  not  always  of 
Araby,  and  the  only  seat  was  a  weather- 
worn board  a  little  wider  than  a  knife-blade. 

Diana  leaned  out  of  the  car  just  before 
they  drove  away  and  offered  him  her  hand. 
"Have  I  thanked  you  nearly  enough,  Mr. 
Barrison?"  she  asked,  and  Barney  Kelly 
observed  her  melting  eyes.  "You  have  filled 
in  every  need  and  been  an  untold  help  to  us 
all  in  this  affair.  Even  Mr.  Wrenn  said  the 
nicest  things  about  you." 

"And  about  you,"  returned  Philip  pressing 
her  willing  hand.  "I  think  Mr.  Wrenn  has 
had  the  time  of  his  life  the  last  few  days." 

"It  has  been  very  exciting,  very  happy — " 
281 


THE  KEY  NOTE 


"Had  we  not  better  start,  Diana  ?"  put  in 
Mrs.  Wilbur.  "I  just  caught  a  glimpse  of  a 
dreadful  fish  over  there  by  a  post.  Do  they 
catch  whales  here  ?" 

"They  stop  at  nothing,  Mrs.  Wilbur," 
Barney  assured  her.  "Good-bye,  good-bye." 

The  motor  sped  off  with  a  grinding  noise. 

"You  Ve  put  in  your  time  well,  eh,  Bar- 
rison?" 

"What  makes  you  think  so  ?" 

"My  word!  If  Miss  Wilbur  ever  turned 
those  lamps  on  me  with  that  look  in  them, 
I'd  fly  right  in  and  singe  my  wings  for  life." 

"I  don't  intend  to  singe  mine,"  said  Philip 
quietly.  "They  think  I  Ve  been  useful  in  this 
one-act  play  they  Ve  been  staging  and  they 
are  grateful,  that 's  all.  The  goddess  is  as 
transparent  and  honest  as  any  child  that 
ever  lived.  She  does  n't  want  to  light  any 
flame  for  the  moth,  she  has  far  too  big  a  soul. 
Did  you  notice  that  the  boy  I  took  away 
looked  different  from  the  one  we  brought 
back  to-day  ?" 

"It  was  n't  the  same  one,  was  it  ?" 

"Yes,  with  a  few  renovations  in  mind  and 
body.  I'll  tell  you  about  it  as  we  go  along." 

When  Mrs.  Wilbur  went  out  on  the  Inn 

282 


DIANA'S  IDEAL 


piazza,  and  was  assailed  with  the  island  sights 
and  odors,  the  snowy  daisy  drifts,  the  dark 
evergreens,  the  rock-lashed  foam  dragging 
at  the  pebbles  and  flinging  them  back  with 
a  never-ceasing  crescendo  and]  diminuendo, 
the  soaring,  sweeping  gulls  above  and  be- 
neath the  blue,  she  did  not  speak  for  a  time, 
and  it  was  a  place  where  her  lorgnette  failed. 

Leonie,  however,  kept  up  a  joyous  under- 
tone. "Mais,  c'est  comme  chez  moi.  C'est 
vraiment  comme  chez  moi,  et  Mr.  Beel,  he 
will  take  me  to  see  ze  poisson." 

"Mr.  Beel"  kept  his  word,  and  not  once, 
but  many  times,  did  Mrs.  Wilbur  look  about 
vainly  for  her  maid  in  a  place  where  there 
was  no  bell  to  ring  for  her,  and  no  clocks  for 
her  to  see  when  she  was  without,  and  Bill's 
motor  was  running  up  and  down  the  road  in 
such  a  convenient  way  for  him  to  stop  and 
take  on  an  eager  passenger,  for  whom  no 
fishing  boat  was  too  dirty,  and  who  could 
swim  as  well  as  any  fish  in  the  bay. 

"Do  let  her  go,  Mamma,"  Diana  said  one 
morning  when  they  were  alone.  "She  is 
having  a  real  vacation.  When  you  are  once 
attired  and  your  hair  is  dressed,  can  I  not 
perform  any  other  office  for  you  ?" 

"But  I  don't  know  which  is  the  maid, 
283 


THE  KEY  NOTE 


Leonie  or  I,"  said  Mrs.  Wilbur.  "First  she 
had  to  have  a  sweater  and  I  sent  for  that. 
Then  she  wanted  a  bathing-suit  and  I  sent 
for  that.  Then  she  bought  herself  some  fishing 
tackle  and,  if  she  can't  get  out  in  a  boat, 
she  sits  on  the  wharf  with  her  feet  hanging 
over  and  fishes  for  those  —  those  —  " 

"Gunners  ?"  suggested  Diana. 

"Yes;  and  she  knows  every  one  of  the 
island  boys,  and  how  does  she  know  when  I 
need  her  ?  She  does  n't  think  anything  about 
it." 

"That 's  it,"  returned  Diana,  nodding. 
"She  has  lost  her  head.  That  is  what  we  all 
do.  You  will,  too,  Mamma.  I  heard  you 
laughing  and  laughing  with  Mr.  Kelly  yes- 
terday." 

"He  is  such  a  droll  creature,"  said  Mrs. 
Wilbur,  with  a  reminiscent  smile.  "  It 's 
such  a  queer  place  here,"  she  went  on  with  a 
puzzled  brow.  "You  could  put  this  whole  Inn 
into  the  ballroom  at  Newport,  and  there  is  n't 
space  enough  to  turn  around  in  the  little 
rooms;  yet  out  of  doors  it  is  all  space,  and 
something  in  the  air  makes  you  want  to  run 
and  jump.  I  might  as  well  tell  you,  Diana, 
my  mind  is  just  getting  set  at  rest  on  the 
subject  of  Mr.  Barrison.  Your  craze  for  this 

284 


DIANA'S  IDEAL 


place  seemed  unnatural,  and  when  I  first  saw 
him  in  Boston,  I  suspected  that  he  was  the 
cause."  The  lady  met  her  daughter's  calm 
eyes  which  contradicted  her  changing  color. 

"What  should  have  disturbed  you  about 
that  ?"  asked  the  girl  quietly. 

"Disturbed  me!  That  you  should  have 
come  off  here  alone  and  fallen  in  love  with 
nobody  knows  who  ? " 

"Oh,  a  good  many  people  are  learning  who. 
That  is  really  the  chief  trouble  with  him: 
I  mean  from  a  girl's  standpoint.  He  is  rap- 
idly becoming  one  of  the  stars  of  the  musical 
world." 

"And  why  is  that  a  drawback  ?"  Mrs.  Wil- 
bur began  to  feel  somewhat  bewildered  by 
her  daughter's  attitude. 

Diana's  color  was  rather  high,  but  she 
turned  toward  her  mother  with  entire  calm. 
"I  am  not  going  to  marry  a  man  whom  other 
women  besiege.  My  husband  will  be  rather 
short.  I  think  he  will  stoop  and  be  near- 
sighted and  wear  spectacles.  He  will  incline 
to  baldness,  but  he  will  be  very  charming  — 
to  me,  and  he  will  be  mine."  The  smile  that 
accompanied  this  declaration  was  so  winning 
that  Mrs.  Wilbur  was  startled. 

"Diana,  have  you  met  any  such  person  ?" 
285 


THE  KEY  NOTE 


she  returned.  "I  don't  like  the  sound  of  him 
at  all!" 

"Not  yet,"  admitted  Diana.  "But  I  keep 
him  in  mind.  He  fights  off  other  types." 

"Supposing,"  said  Mrs.  Wilbur  sharply, 
"some  very  desirable  man,  as  attractive  as 
Mr.  Barrison,  for  instance,  were  to  say  he 
would  n't  marry  you,  because  you  are  too 
pretty  —  other  men  would  look  at  you." 

"You  do  think  he  is  attractive,  do  you, 
Mamma?" 

"Why — certainly,"  returned  Mrs.  Wilbur, 
not  quite  sure  even  yet  that  the  admission 
was  safe. 

"The  cases  are  not  parallel,"  said  Diana. 
"Women  as  a  rule  are  more  faithful,  and  men 
are  conceited.  The  average  man  must  have 
severe  lessons  before  he  believes  that  the 
woman  who  has  loved  him  will  turn  to  some 
one  else." 

"Why,  Diana,  I  am  surprised  at  you.  You 
talk  in  such  a  sophisticated  way;  but,  my 
dear,  let  me  remind  you  that  you  have  some 
one  beside  yourself  to  please  when  you  marry. 
Your  father  may  give  you  an  unlimited 
check-book,  but  he  won't  give  you  carte 
blanche  when  it  comes  to  marrying.  He  is  n't 
going  to  welcome  into  the  family  any  insig- 

286 


DIANA'S  IDEAL 


nificant  little  scarecrow  such  as  you  are 
counting  on."1 

If  Philip  wanted  to  hear  Diana  laugh,  it  was 
a  pity  he  was  n't  near  now,  for  she  burst 
forth  so  merrily  that  Veronica  peeped  out  the 
window. 

"  I  see  you  are  going  to  be  as  difficult  as  I 
am,  Mamma,"  she  said  at  last. 

It  was  soon  after  this  that  the  cottage 
people  with  one  accord  begged  Philip  to  give 
a  recital  in  the  hall.  The  summer  colony  was 
an  appreciative  and  cultured  one.  Many  of 
them  had  known  Philip  from  his  boyhood, 
and  were  watching  his  career  with  interest. 
So  it  was  an  occasion  of  intimacy  and  delight. 

When  the  evening  arrived,  the  hall  was 
decked  with  flowers,  and  the  singer  and  his 
accompanist  appeared  in  white  flannels. 
Philip  was  his  own  programme,  announcing 
his  songs  and  receiving  at  times  stentorian 
requests  for  special  encores. 

Mrs.  Wilbur,  as  she  looked  and  listened, 
felt  that  she  gained  an  understanding  of 
Diana's  arguments:  not  that,  in  any  case,  she 
desired  this  young  man  for  a  son-in-law,  but 
she  was  greatly  surprised  at  the  beauty  of 
his  voice  and  his  art.  It  was  a  feast  he  gave 
them  that  night  in  the  uncalculating  opulence 

287 


THE  KEY  NOTE 


of  his  youth  and  strength:  Arias  from 
"Boheme"  and  "La  Tosca";  the  "Dream 
Song"  from  "Manon";  ballads;  a  group  of 
modern  French  songs;  another  of  old  English. 
Barney  Kelly's  accompanying  was  perfect. 
He  was  among  strangers,  and  he  was  as 
serious  throughout  as  if  they  were  performing 
in  Carnegie  Hall.  Despite  the  fact  that  the 
piano  was  an  upright,  he  played  a  group  of 
Chopin,  Palmgren,  and  Debussy  with  great 
charm,  and  the  contingent  from  the  Inn  led 
the  strong  applause.  As  he  bowed,  Kelly 
recognized  Veronica's  rosy,  serious  face  and 
wildly  active  hands. 

At  the  close  of  the  recital,  Mrs.  Wilbur  was 
more  excited  than  she  had  been  for  years. 

"He  's  wonderful,  Diana,"  she  said,  stand- 
ing up  while  she  was  still  in  the  throes  of 
hand-clapping.  "Wonderful!  We  must  try 
to  get  him  for  an  October  date  in  Pittsfield. 
Our  room  is  quite  large  enough.  He  will 
make  a  sensation." 

"Yes,"  said  Diana,  rather  faintly.  "That 
is  the  easiest  thing  he  does."  Her  face  was 
pale.  The  possible  charmer  with  the  bald 
head  and  spectacles  had  had  a  hard  fight  to- 
night. 

Barney  Kelly  disappeared  through  some 
288 


DIANA'S  IDEAL 


back  door  while  Philip's  enthusiastic  friends 
gathered  around  him,  and  Veronica  dashed 
out  on  the  front  piazza,  cleared  the  steps  in 
two  bounds,  and  the  July  moon  aided  her 
progress  between  the  bushes  to  the  back  of 
the  hall  where  a  figure  in  white  was  stray- 
ing. 

"Mr.  Kelly,"  she  called  breathlessly,  "you 
were  perfectly  splendid.  Why  did  n't  you 
stay  and  let  the  people  tell  you  so  ? " 

"Oh,  I  don't  know  them,"  said  Barney 
carelessly.  "And  they  want  to  eat  up  Barn- 


son.'1 


"  But  they  want  to  eat  up  you,  too.  Did  n't 
you  see  how  crazy  they  were  about  that  last 
funny  out-of-tune  thing  you  played  ? " 

Kelly  laughed. 

"And  don't  you  go  away;  they  're  going  to 
dance." 

"Oh,  do  they  want  me  to  play?" 

"Don't  you  dare  to  play!  Don't  you  dare 
to  let  them  know  you  can."  Barney  laughed 
again.  "Well,  of  course,  they  know  now  you 
can,  but  not  dance  music." 

"You  're  a  very  nice  child,  Veronica." 
Barney  looked  at  her  little  dimpled  rose  face, 
and  the  pale  green  dress  she  wore. 

"Well,  if  I  am,  then  come  around  to  the 
289 


THE  KEY  NOTE 


front  piazza  with  me.  They  're  setting  back 
the  chairs." 

Meanwhile  Mrs.  Wilbur  was  drawing  Di- 
ana toward  the  group  surrounding  Philip. 
"I  don't  know  what  to  say  to  you  that 
won't  sound  too  effusive,"  she  said  as  soon  as 
she  could  get  his  attention  and  his  hand. 
"Will  you  come  to  us  in  October  and  sing  a 
recital?" 

"I  shall  be  glad  to,  if  I  can.  I  will  see  about 
my  dates."  As  Philip  replied,  he  looked  at 
Diana.  She  gave  him  a  pale  smile  and  said 
nothing.  More  people  approached  and  Mrs. 
Wilbur  drew  away,  her  daughter  with  her. 

"Miss  Diana,"  said  Philip,  across  the  heads 
of  the  crowd,  "  they  are  going  to  dance.  Will 
you  stay?" 

Diana  nodded.  "You  like  to  dance,  Mam- 
ma. You  stay,  too." 

"Oh,  not  in  this  little  place  where  every- 
body will  be  stepping  on  every  one  else. 
Beside,  Leonie's  beau  is  waiting  outside  to 
take  us  home.  I  will  go  with  Miss  Burridge 
and  tell  Bill  to  come  back  for  you  in  an  hour. 
I  suppose  you  don't  need  a  chaperon  for  I 
don't  see  your  ideal  here  to-night,  Diana," 
in  a  lowered  voice.  "You  were  right  about 
Mr.  Barrison.  Let  us  pray  that  women  don't 

290 


DIANA'S  IDEAL 


make  a  complete  fool  of  him.  You  don't 
look  just  right,  dear.  Don't  stay  late.  I'll 
tell  Bill  to  come  back  in  an  hour.  Oh,  there  is 
that  comical  Mr.  Kelly."  Mrs.  Wilbur  sailed 
up  to  him.  "Thank  you  so  much  for  this 
evening.  You  were  delightful,  Mr.  Kelly, 
and  Mr.  Barrison  is  most  fortunate  in  having 
you." 

"But  you  're  not  going,  Mrs.  Wilbur?" 

"Yes;  good-night." 

"No,  not  until  you  Ve  danced  once  with 
me.  There,  the  music  is  just  going  to  begin." 
And,  sure  enough,  Miss  Burridge  stood  back 
and  waited  while  Mrs.  WTilbur's  little  satin- 
clad  feet  tripped  lightly  around  in  the  dance 
with  the  volatile  Barney,  and  she  talked  to 
him  about  the  date  in  October  and  promised 
she  would  dance  with  him  again  at  that 
time. 

Mrs.  Lowell  and  Herbert  had  been  enjoying 
the  concert  and  had  told  Philip  so,  and  now 
stood  back  watching  the  dancing. 

"Would  you  like,  to  learn  to  dance  ?"  asked 
Mrs.  Lowell.,  " 

"No." 

"It  sounds  better  to  say,  'No,  Mrs. 
Lowell,'  or,  'No,  I  thank  you/" 

"Then  I  will,"  said  the  boy. 
291 


THE  KEY  NOTE 


"I  like  to  dance,"  said  Mrs.  Lowell,  "and 
I  wish  you  would  learn." 

"Then  I  will,"  said  the  boy  again. 

The  music  had  thrilled  his  artist  soul.  It 
seemed  all  a  part  of  the  entrancing  night,  a 
part  of  the  safe  world  of  love  into  which  he 
had  been  guided. 


CHAPTER  XIX 

MOONLIGHT 

MRS.  WILBUR  looked  back  into  the  hall  from 
the  piazza,  before  she  stepped  into  the  motor. 
Diana  was  already  dancing  with  Philip  Bar- 
rison.  She  watched  their  smooth  movements 
for  a  minute,  then  turned  to  Mrs.  Lowell  who 
had  just  emerged  with  her  boy. 

"This  —  this  gathering,  this  settlement 
here,  seems  rather  like  a  family  party,  does  n't 
it  ?"  she  said,  with  a  sort  of  troubled  curiosity. 

"Yes;  nearly  all  of  these  people  have 
known  each  other  for  many  summers." 

"I  feel  a  little  strange  to  go  and  leave 
Diana." 

"I  don't  think  you  need,"  replied  Mrs. 
Lowell. 

"I  suppose,"  said  Mrs.  Wilbur,  "if  the 
steed  were  going  to  be  stolen,  it  would  have 
happened  before  this.  The  stable  door  has 
been  open  for  weeks." 

"Quite  so,"  said  Mrs.  Lowell,  laughing. 
"It  is  so  light,  Bert  and  I  are  going  to  walk 
up  to  the  Inn." 

"  I  am  going  to  send  the  car  back  for  Diana 
in  one  hour,"  declared  Mrs.  Wilbur.  Her 

293 


THE  KEY  NOTE 


daughter's  theories  were  all  very  well,  but 
this  was  a  distractingly  beautiful  night  and 
the  echoes  of  that  marvelous  voice  were  even 
yet  thrilling  her  own  nerves.  Leonie  was 
sitting  at  the  front  of  the  car  with  Bill  Lind- 
say, and  Mrs.  Wilbur  mounted  into  the  back 
seat  with  Miss  Burridge. 

"I  suppose  Miss  Veronica  will  return  with 
my  daughter,"  she  said. 

"I  only  hope  so,"  returned  Miss  Burridge 
resignedly.  "Mr.  Kelly  has  promised  to  see 
to  her." 

"I  don't  feel  like  dancing,"  said  Diana,  as 
her  partner  guided  her  through  the  narrow 
spaces. 

"No  one  would  suspect  it,"  he  replied.  "I 
was  just  thinking  that  this  night  was  to  be 
superlative  in  all  directions." 

"But  how  can  one  endure  this  silly  music 
when  'Manon!  Manon!1  is  echoing  through 
the  heart!" 

Philip  did  not  reply,  nor  did  he  release  her 
until  the  gay  strumming  at  the  piano  ceased. 
Then  they  went  out  on  the  piazza.  The 
laughing,  chattering  young  people  were 
streaming  out  into  the  air,  and  occupying 
every  available  seat.  The  field  surrounding 
the  hall  was  light  as  day. 

294 


MOONLIGHT 


"Let  us  go  down  to  the  rocks,"  said  Philip. 

"I  mustn't  because  my  mother  is  going 
to  send  the  car  back  for  me  in  one  hour. 
You  've  no  idea  how  firmly  my  mother  can 
say  'one  hour'  and  mean  it." 

"There  should  be  no  rules  on  a  night  like 
this,"  Philip  regarded  his  companion,  pale 
in  the  moonlight  as  her  pale,  filmy  garments. 
"I  feel  like  quoting  a  choice  spirit  of  my 
childhood  days.  He  was  trying  to  get  me  to 
go  on  a  tear  of  some  kind  with  him,  and  I 
told  him  my  mother  would  worry.  He  said, 
1  Oh,  come  on.  Scoldings  don't  hurt,  whip- 
pings don't  last  long,  and  she  da'sn't  kill 
you.'" 

Diana  smiled.  "Now  that  she  is  here,  she 
likes  to  tuck  me  in,"  she  said. 

"I  would  she  had  waited  until  after  the 
moon.  Well,  let  us  go  to  the  near  rocks.  I 
will  keep  watch  of  the  time." 

They  went  down  the  populous  steps. 

"Oh,  Mr.  Barrison!"  exclaimed  a  wroman 
upon  whom  he  nearly  trod.  "What  ecstasy 
you  have  given  us!" 

It  was  Miss  Emerson.  She  was  cooling  off 
from  a  dance  with  Mr.  Pratt,  and  was  in  high 
feather,  because  neither  he  nor  Mr.  Evans 
knew  another  woman  present,  save  Veronica, 

295 


THE  KEY  NOTE 


and  her  acquaintance,  though  not  wide,  seemed 
intensive. 

"Yes,  that  was  corking,"  said  Mr.  Evans. 
"We  sure  do  thank  you.  Say,  folks,  I  'm  tired. 
I'm  going  to  trot  along." 

"Back  to  the  Inn?"  asked  Philip  with 
interest. 

"Yes.  Anything  I  can  do  for  you  ?" 

"If  you  will  be  so  kind.  Mrs.  Wilbur  has 
just  gone.  Will  you  be  kind  enough  to  tell  her 
not  to  worry  if  her  daughter  is  a  little  later 
than  she  expected  ?  Tell  her  you  left  her  in 
good  hands  and  we  are  going  to  walk  up  after  a 
while." 

"Certainly.  Be  glad  to,"   replied  Evans. 

"Oh,"  breathed  Diana,  softly,  as  they  moved 
on  into  the  glory  of  the  night,  "I'm  quite 
sure  you  should  not  have  done  that." 

"Do  you  want  to  be  shut  up  in  a  tin  Lizzie 
to-night?" 

"No,  nor  anywhere." 

Philip  led  her  to  the  shore  and  found  a  cor- 
ner among  the  rocks  from  which  they  could 
watch  the  beaten  silver  of  the  billows  rushing 
tumultuously  landward,  breaking  in  foam 
about  their  eyrie,  and  slipping  back  in  myriad 
bridal  veils. 

"There  is  always  one  night  in  the  summer, 
206 


MOONLIGHT 


and  this  is  the  night,"  said  Philip.  "Think  of 
viewing  the  moon  in  company  with  the  god- 
dess herself!  If  you  only  would  n't  mind 
leaning  against  my  arm.  I'm  sorry  to  have 
that  rock  cutting  into  your  dandy  gown." 

"Thank  you,  but  it  does  n't.  I  have  a  very 
good  place  here." 

"Comfortable  enough  to  tell  me  that  you 
liked  the  music?" 

Diana  looked  around  at  him  slowly,  and  he 
laughed  softly. 

"Yes,  I  know  you  did.  I  know  if  I  ever 
could  sing,  I  sang  to-night.  There  was  some- 
thing new  in  it.  It  taught  me  something, 
something  I  've  been  waiting  for.  They  Ve 
always  told  me,  my  teachers,  that  the  one 
thing  I  needed  was  to  fall  in  love.  It  must 
have  happened  —  happened,  somehow,  when 
I  was  n't  looking."  Philip  crossed  his  arms 
behind  his  head,  leaned  back  and  looked  at 
the  high  sailing  moon.  "Thank  you,  great 
goddess  Diana,  I  am  at  your  feet.  You  have 
dropped  upon  me  a  spark  of  the  divine  fire. 
I  build  you  an  altar.  The  flame  shall  never  go 
out." 

The  girl  beside  him  bit  her  lip  and  silence 
fell  between  them.  The  bright  billows  swept 
in  and  crashed  apart. 

297 


THE  KEY  NOTE 


"I  suppose  that  is  what  love  means  to  an 
artist,"  she  said  at  last.  "The  nourishing  of 
his  art.  That  is  all." 

"That  is  all  it  can  mean  to  me,"  he  an- 
swered; "but  is  n't  it  enough  ?  An  object  to 
worship  with  all  a  man's  strength,  receiving 
the  return  of  inspiration  ?" 

She  looked  at  him  as  he  lay  there  reclining 
against  the  rock,  his  upturned  face  not  seek- 
ing hers.  This  evening  had  shown  her  in  min- 
iature the  truth  of  all  she  had  felt  and,  because 
her  heart  was  beating  fast,  she  clung  more 
strongly  than  ever  to  the  spectacled  gentle- 
man with  the  scanty  hair. 

"Say  something,  divine  one,"  he  said  sud- 
denly, turning  to  her. 

"Don't  confuse  me  with  the  moon,  Mr. 
Barrison,"  she  warned  him. 

"But  at  least  can't  you  congratulate 
me?" 

"Yes,  I  can,  on  many  things;  but  —  don't 
fall  in  love  with  any  ideal  less  impersonal 
than  a  planet." 

"I  don't  intend  to,  but  why  these  words 
of  wisdom  ? " 

"Because  any — any  mere  mortal  girl 
married  to  you  would  be  miserable." 

"Oh,  come,  now!"  Philip  sat  up,  and 
298 


MOONLIGHT 


frowned  at  her  with  a  quizzical  smile.  "So 
you  think  I  ought  to  try  kindness  first,  do 
you?  Why?" 

Diana  turned  her  fair  moonlit  face  directly 
to  him.  "Because  you  cannot  ever  belong  to 
yourself,  even.  Much  less  to  her." 

"I  don't  quite  get  that." 

"I  can't  speak  for  all  girls,  but  for  myself, 
if  I  ever  have  a  husband,  I  want  —  I  want  to 
creep  off  into  a  corner  with  him." 

"A  corner  like  this  rock?" 

"This  is  big  enough." 

"How  would  that  suit  the  great  Charles 
Wilbur?" 

"  It  would  not  suit  him.  I  know  that.  The 
homely  little  stoop-shouldered  man,  with  the 
lovely  soul,  whom  I  mean  to  marry,  will  not 
altogether  please  my  father." 

Philip's  eyes  grew  big  in  the  moonlight. 
"Have  you  picked  him  out  ?" 

"Yes,  as  an  ideal.  Other  women  will  leave 
me  in  possession  of  him." 

"Ah,"  Philip  nodded,  "I  begin  to  see." 
They  were  both  silent  again.  At  last  Philip 
spoke  again.  "I  deny  that  that  girl  you  are 
warning  me  away  from  would  have  such  a 
rocky  time.  What  do  you  suppose  I  should 
care  for  the  babble,  no  matter  how  kind  it 

299 


THE  KEY  NOTE 


was,  how  sweet  even,  of  other  women  ?  I 
should  see  only  her." 

"You  think  so,"  said  Diana.  "I  know  you 
think  so.  And  at  first  it  would  probably  be  so, 
but  a  singer's  appetite  for  flattery  grows.  Of 
course  it  does.  I'm  not  blaming  you.  It's 
just  your  career." 

Silence  again,  until  Philip  spoke.  "Very 
well,  I  shall  hunt  you  out  in  your  corner  with 
your  faithful  gnome,  and  I  shall  beg:  (he  sang) 
'Drink  to  me  only  with  thine  eyes,  and  I  will 
pledge  with  mine.' 3 

Philip  sang  the  song  entirely  through,  slow- 
ly and  deliberately,  and  Diana  closed  her 
eyes,  and  the  laces  on  her  sleeve  trembled. 
The  glory  of  the  night,  the  glory  of  the  voice 
were  all  one.  She  shrank  into  her  corner  and 
held  desperately  to  her  ideal. 

When  he  had  finished,  Philip  looked  at  her. 
Her  head  rested  back  upon  the  rock,  her  eyes 
were  closed.  The  mysterious  light  lent  her 
face  a  strange  radiance. 

"Diana,"  he  said,  and  there  was  a  thrill 
in  his  voice,  "you  are  well  named.  Goddess 
of  the  moon  you  certainly  are,  and  this  night 
is  an  epoch  in  my  life.  I  love,  and  in  spite  of 
your  skepticism  I  shall  J^e  true."  She  opened 
her  eyes  and  looked  at  him,  and  he  drew  a 
300 


MOONLIGHT 


long,  quick  breath.  "  I  can't  let  you  stay  here 
any  longer.  Your  wrap  is  n't  enough.  Now 
we  will  sprint  up  to  the  Inn.  Do  you  feel  like 
it?" 

"Oh,  is  it  over  ?"  she  said  softly. 

"Yes,  or  else  it  has  just  begun.  I  am  not 
sure  which,"  he  answered,  and  rising  he  gave 
her  his  hand  and  helped  her  to  her  feet.  "The 
moon  is  no  farther  away  from  me  than  you," 
he  said  in  the  moment  while  he  held  her  hand. 
"I  am  not  going  to  forget  it." 

"Then  it  is  I!"  she  thought,  with  a  bound 
of  the  heart  that  turned  her  faint. 

They  scarcely  spoke  on  the  long,  heavenly 
walk  up  the  island.  The  sea  was  starry  as  the 
sky  with  the  lights  of  fishing  boats,  and  phos- 
phorescence gleamed  where  the  water  was  in 
shadow. 

When  he  took  her  hand  for  good-night  on 
the  piazza  of  the  Inn,  she  said:  "I  haven't 
thanked  you  for  this  wonderful  evening.  You 
know  I  do  —  Philomel." 

He  smiled  down  at  her.  "That  reminds  me 
of  our  first  meeting  here.  *  Philomel  with 
melody,'  you  said.  I  remember  what  I  had 
been  singing,  too.  It  is  still  true."  He  kissed 
her  hand,  jumped  over  the  piazza,  rail,  nar- 
rowly missing  the  sweet  peas,  and  strode 

301 


THE  KEY  NOTE 


away.  The  girl  stood  in  the  shadow  watching 
the  tall,  white  figure  and  listening  to  the  waves 
of  song  that  floated  back  through  the  moon- 
light. 

"Thou  'rt  like  unto  a  flower 
So  sweet,  so  pure,  so  fair  — " 

"What  shall  I  do!"  murmured  the  poor, 
bewildered  moon-goddess  on  the  piazza. 
"What  shall  I  do/" 


CHAPTER  XX 

REUNION 

THERE  was  one  case  of  happiness  without 
drawbacks  on  the  island  at  this  time.  It  was 
in  the  humble  starved  heart  of  Herbert 
Loring,  Second.  Each  morning  Mrs.  Lowell 
came  into  his  room  after  breakfast  and  made 
his  bed,  taught  him  how  to  take  care  of  his 
belongings,  and  read  with  him  from  the  books 
she  loved.  All  traces  of  Nicholas  Gayne's 
occupation  having  been  removed,  and  every 
article  the  boy  had  used  in  the  past  dispensed 
with,  his  fresh  new  possessions  were  neatly 
arranged,  and  he  waked  each  morning  to  a 
new  and  wonderful  life.  Mrs.  Lowell  encour- 
aged his  artistic  work  and  allowed  him  to 
spend  as  much  time  upon  it  as  he  wished.  All 
fear  being  removed,  his  appetite  revived,  and 
one  could  almost  daily  see  the  flesh  return 
upon  his  bones.  His  good  friend,  finding  that 
his  sapped  energies  recoiled  from  muscular 
effort,  did  not  urge  him  to  swim  or  to  row, 
but  fed  his  mind  and  heart  and  awaited  his 
rebuilding. 

His  story  became  known  on  the  island,  and 
from  being  ignored  or  contemptuously  pitied, 

303 


THE  KEY  NOTE 


the  good-looking  boy  in  the  simple,  smart 
sports  clothes  was  the  object  on  all  sides  of  a 
friendly  curiosity,  which  he  could  not  under- 
stand and  frequently  rebuffed  through  his 
very  directness  and  inexperience.  It  was  his 
weekly  duty  to  write  to  Mr.  Wrenn,  and  this 
was  a  dreaded  task,  but  Mrs.  Lowell  ex- 
plained to  him  that  he  had  his  grandfather's 
name,  and  that  he  must  begin  to  learn  to  fill 
his  place  in  the  world;  and  his  pitifully 
childish  writing  and  misspelling  had  to  be 
corrected  under  the  eyes  that  were  still  sad 
at  such  times. 

"I'm  so  ignorant,  such  a  baby!"  he  ex- 
claimed one  morning  when  this  trial  was  being 
undergone. 

"But  you  need  n't  mind  it,  need  you,  since 
it  isn't  your  fault?"  returned  Mrs.  Lowell 
cheerfully.  "  So  many  good  years  are  coming 
for  you  to  study  and  learn  in." 

"What  will  happen  when  the  summer  is 
over?"  asked  the  boy.  "Are  you  going  to 
take  me  with  you  ?  Will  Mr.  Lowell  like 
me?" 

"Indeed,  he  will.  I  am  going  to  have  you 
live  near  me." 

"Not  with  you  ?" 

"No,  Bert,  that  would  n't  be  best.  I  have 

304 


REUNION 

been  corresponding  with  a  very  nice  young 
man  whom  I  have  known  a  long  time,  and  he 
will  be  pleased  to  live  with  you  and  give  you 
lessons." 

"In  drawing?"  asked  the  boy. 

"No,  sir."  Mrs.  Lowell  gave  him  the  gay, 
smiling  look  he  liked :  it  was  so  full  of  every- 
thing cheerful  and  kind.  "No,  sir,  reading 
and  writing  and  'rithmetic." 

"Oh,"  returned  Bert,  looking  very  serious. 

"First  you  must  give  your  time  to  study. 
Education  is  the  foundation.  Then,  later, 
when  you  have  gone  through  college  —  Oh, 
how  proud  I  shall  be  when  I  go  to  see  you 
graduate!" 

"Shall  you  ever  be  proud  of  me?"  asked 
the  boy  slowly. 

"If  you  will  let  me,"  she  answered.  "It 
all  remains  with  you." 

"Then  —  then  I  '11  try.  I  would  rather 
stay  with  Mr.  Blake  when  you  go  away,  but 
if  you  want  me  to,  I  '11  live  with  the  young 


man.': 


"You  will  like  him.  He  is  only  twenty 
years  old,  and  he  wants  to  go  to  college  when 
he  gets  money  enough.  So  he  is  glad  to  do 
tutoring  now.  That  means  helping  a  younger 
boy  to  learn." 

305 


THE  KEY  NOTE 


"He  will  laugh  at  me,"  remarked  Bert, 
looking  off  moodily.  "I  would  rather  stay 
with  Mr.  Blake  and  paint  the  snow  on  the 
evergreens." 

"Oh,  no,  dear,"  said  Mrs.  Lowell.  "That 
v/ould  n't  please  your  grandfather.  Besides, 
would  n't  you  miss  me  ?" 

"I  don't  like  Mr.  Lowell,"  remarked  the 
boy. 

His  friend  laughed  and  took  his  hand  be- 
tween both  her  own.  "We  shall  all  love  each 
other,"  she  said,  "and  I  shall  hope  to  see 
you  every  day." 

Bert  thoughtfully  visualized  the  boat  carry- 
ing her  away  without  him,  and  decided  to  be 
glad  of  the  other  horn  of  the  dilemma.  He 
had  learned  to  smile,  and  he  did  so  now,  look- 
ing at  her  so  trustfully  that  she  patted  his 
hand  as  she  laid  it  down. 

"That 's  a  good  boy,"  she  said. 

On  the  morning  after  the  concert,  Mrs. 
Wilbur  regarded  her  child  rather  anxiously. 

"Is  it  ever  considered  malarial  here  ?"  she 
asked. 

"The  opposite  extreme,"  said  Diana. 

"Well,  you  look  pale.  You  stayed  out  of 
doors  too  long.  The  night  air  anywhere  —  " 

306 


REUNION 

"Oh,  but  it  has  such  a  pleasant  way  of 
growing  warmer  here  at  evening.  I  was  n't 
cold,  indeed,  Mamma." 

"And  I  heard  that  divine  voice  going  back 
through  the  field  singing  Rubinstein,"  said 
Mrs.  Wilbur.  She  sighed.  "I  am  glad  you 
are  so  matter-of-fact,  Diana.  He  made  me 
feel  like  a  matinee  girl,  that  man."  Mrs. 
Wilbur  was  already  planning  her  autumn 
musicale,  and  in  fancy  saw  the  air  dark  with 
automobiles  parked  in  rows  about  the  Wilbur 
residence  in  Pittsfield. 

She  left  Diana  now  to  go  upstairs  to  make 
her  list,  and  the  girl  went  out  of  doors  to 
gather  sweet  peas  for  the  living-room.  Paus- 
ing when  her  hands  were  full  of  the  color  and 
fragrance,  she  turned  about  to  view  the  fresh 
morning  landscape.  As  she  did  so  she  heard 
a  gay  whistling  that  grew  louder  as  it  neared. 

"The  owl  and  the  pussy  cat  went  to  sea 
In  a  beautiful  pea-green  boat — " 

The  thrill  of  delicious  terror,  which  had 
come  over  her  on  waking  from  her  short  sleep 
that  morning,  constricted  her  heart  now. 

Philip  approached.  "Good-morrow,  fair 
one;  posing  for  a  study  of  Aurora  ?" 

Diana  looked  around  at  him  with  delibera- 

307 


THE  KEY  NOTE 


tion.  "I  was  deciding  what  individuals  of 
the  fauna  and  flora  here  were  most  marked." 

Philip  ducked  his  face  down  into  her  bou- 
quet. "You  chose  the  sweet  pea,  of  course." 

"No,  I  decided  on  swallows  and  daisies.  The 
swallows  are  ravishing:  so  fearless  and  so 
beautiful.  Have  you  noticed  how  they  dart 
past,  nearly  brushing  our  cheeks,  and  how  the 
sun  brings  out  glints  of  blue  in  their  plumage  ? 
I  often  mistake  them  for  bluebirds  with  that 
touch  of  color  on  their  breasts." 

"Daisies  and  swallows,"  said  Philip  mus- 
ingly. "They  do  seem  to  belong  especially. 
It  makes  me  think  of  a  song."  He  paused. 
"Did  you  hear  that  booming  of  a  new  whistle 
this  morning  ?  There  's  a  stranger  in  the  cove, 
a  swell  yacht.  I  thought  you  might  like  to 
come  down  and  see  it." 

"Yes,  I  should.  Let  me  put  the  flowers  in 
water  and  I  will  be  with  you."  She  reappeared 
quickly,  and  they  struck  off  across  the  field 
to  the  road. 

"How  could  I  know  it  was  a  strange 
whistle?"  asked  the  girl. 

"  I  suppose  you  would  n't,  but  to  us  island- 
ers every  familiar  whistle  is  like  the  voice  of  a 
friend.  Kelly  is  waiting  for  us  in  his  boat.  We 
want  to  row  out  to  the  beauty." 

308 


REUNION 

"It  was  very  kind  of  you  to  come  'way  up 
here  for  me,"  said  Diana. 

There  came  walking  toward  them  along  the 
road  a  man  in  white  trousers,  dark-blue  coat, 
and  cap  with  a  gold  insignia. 

"That  must  be  some  one  from  the  yacht 
now,"  said  Philip. 

Diana  looked  up,  looked  again,  and  with  a 
cry  of  delight,  ran  forward  straight  into  the 
arms  of  the  man. 

"Daddy,  Daddy!"  she  cried,  "how  good 
of  you!" 

The  tall,  handsome  stranger,  with  silver 
threads  in  his  brown  mustache,  glanced  up 
at  his  daughter's  escort  while  he  kissed 
her. 

"I  had  to  look  you  up,  you  know,"  he  said 
while  she  held  him  tight,  her  arms  around  his 
neck. 

Loosing  him,  she  half  turned  to  Philip. 
"This  is  Mr.  Barrison,  Daddy.  We  were  just 
going  down  to  see  who  was  the  stranger  in  the 


cove." 


Mr.  Wilbur  shook  hands  with  the  tanned, 
blond  youth  in  a  perfunctory  manner,  scarce- 
ly looking  at  him. 

"Mamma  is  here.  Did  you  know  it?" 
cried  Diana. 

309 


THE  KEY  NOTE 


"No.  You  don't  say  so!  Kill  both  my  birds 
with  one  stone,  eh  ? " 

The  girl  held  out  her  hand  to  Philip.  "I 
shall  have  to  go  back,  Mr.  Barrison.  Daddy, 
take  your  card  and  write  an  order  for  Mr. 
Barrison  and  his  friend  to  go  over  the  yacht. 
They  were  just  going  to  row  out  to  it,  and  I 
was  going  with  them.  How  little  I  thought  it 
was  you,  dearest."  She  kissed  him  again  and 
fumbled  at  her  father's  buttons. 

Philip  thought  there  was  some  reluctance 
in  the  cool  glance  the  yachtsman  flung  him 
again.  "Don't  trouble  yourself,  Mr.  Wilbur. 
Another  time,  perhaps." 

"No,  this  minute,"  said  Diana.  Mr.  Wil- 
bur got  at  an  inside  pocket.  "Mr.  Barrison 
will  take  you  deep-sea  fishing  if  you  can  stay 
a  few  days.  You  have  often  spoken  of  it." 

"A  fisherman,  eh  ?"  said  Mr.  Wilbur,  as  he 
took  out  his  card  and  wrote  upon  it. 

Diana  laughed  nervously.  "Oh,  no,  Daddy, 
but  he  knows  the  ropes  here."  She  handed 
the  card  to  Philip.  "The  Idlewild  is  worth 
visiting,"  she  said,  "and  you  never  can  tell 
with  these  yachtsmen.  They  slip  off  some- 
times in  the  middle  of  the  night.  A  bird  in  the 
hand,  you  know."  She  smiled.  "Au  revoir." 

Philip,  holding  his  card,  looked  after  them 
310 


REUNION 

as  they  went  on  up  the  road.  Diana  was  hang- 
ing on  her  father's  arm.  The  young  fellow's 
face  flushed  deeply  under  the  tan,  and  his  lips 
came  together  firmly. 

"That  girl  is  worth  all  the  adoration  a  man 
can  waste  on  her,"  he  thought.  "I  don't 
know  that  he  is  such  a  fool  at  that." 

"What  a  summer,  Veronica!"  exclaimed 
Miss  Burridge  when  she  found  that  Charles 
Wilbur  was  going  to  eat  mackerel  and  sweet 
potatoes  at  her  table  that  noon. 

"Some  do  have  greatness  thrust  upon  them, 
Aunt  Priscilla.  First  the  arrival  of  Prince 
Herbert,  then  King  Charles  himself." 

"Yes,  my  knees  feel  kind  o'  queer,  Ver- 
onica, and  I  think  we'd  better  have  the  lobster 
salad  this  noon  instead  of  saving  it  for  night." 

The  other  boarders  eliminated  themselves, 
so  that  the  Wilbur  family  could  occupy  the 
piazza  after  dinner.  Mr.  Wilbur  had  praised 
the  cooking  and  Veronica  had  carried  the 
good  report  to  the  kitchen.  He  sat  now  with 
his  wife  and  daughter,  one  on  each  side  of  him, 
and,  as  he  smoked  his  cigar,  looked  off  on  the 
glory  that  is  Casco  Bay. 

"You're  pretty  nearly  on  a  boat  here, 
are  n't  you  ?"  he  said. 

3" 


THE  KEY  NOTE 


"It  is  the  most  wonderful  place  in  the 
world,"  said  Diana  fervently. 

He  turned  to  her  and  pinched  her  chin.  The 
excited  color  that  had  risen  in  her  happy  sur- 
prise had  faded.  "You  're  not  a  good  adver- 
tisement for  it,"  he  said.  "You  did  n't  eat 
anything  at  dinner  and  you  look  as  if  you  had 
been  up  all  night." 

"I  do  think  Diana  feels  the  effect  of  all  the 
excitement  she  went  through  in  Boston," 
said  Mrs.  Wilbur;  and  forthwith  she  pro- 
ceeded to  tell  the  story  of  the  grandson  of  her 
husband's  old  friend,  and  Diana's  part  in  it. 
He  had  met  the  boy  at  table  and  he  lis- 
tened with  absorbed  interest. 

"Well,  little  girl,  well,"  he  said  kindly, 
"that  was  some  experience.  You  '11  have  to 
brace  up  now." 

"Oh,  I'm  going  to,  Daddy,  and  I  want  to 
purchase  some  of  this  island.  I  love  it  here. 
It  inspires  me." 

"Better  hold  on,"  was  the  quiet  response. 
"Why  not  take  this  place  next  summer  ?  En- 
gage Miss  Burridge  as  cook  and  housekeeper, 
then  bring  some  guests  and  run  up  here  for 
a  week  or  so,  off  and  on,  when  you  feel  like 
it." 

"That  might  be  pleasant,"  returned  Diana. 
312 


REUNION 

Her  father  smiled  and  patted  her.  "You 
are  not  always  going  to  be  a  tired  schoolgirl. 
Home  may  hold  out  more  attractions  next 
summer  than  you  think." 

"You  don't  know  the  rocks  and  the  walks 
here  yet,  Daddy,"  said  Diana  wistfully. 

"How  many  walks  shall  I  have  to  take  be- 
fore you  are  ready  to  go  back  with  me?" 

"Of  course  we  're  going  back  with  Daddy," 
said  Mrs.  Wilbur  warningly. 

"You  like  the  yacht,  don't  you,  Diana?" 
he  asked. 

"Indeed,  I  do.  It  was  only  that  you  were 
going  to  have  such  gay  people  this  summer, 
and  I  could  n't  be  gay." 

"I  understand,  dear.  I've  ditched  the  gay 
people  now,  and  we  will  have  a  family  party 
only,  going  back." 

"That  will  be  delightful,"  replied  Diana. 

"We  haven't  told  you  the  most  wonder- 
ful thing  yet,"  said  Mrs.  Wilbur.  "There  is 
a  most  charming  singer  on  the  island.  He 
gave  a  recital  last  night.  Nothing  common- 
place. A  very  unusual  voice.  I'm  engaging 
him  for  Pittsfield,  Charles.  He  thinks  he  can 
come  for  a  recital.  He  is  young  and  little 
known  yet,  and  so  will  be  a  novelty.  I  want 
you  to  hear  him.  You  '11  be  wild,  too."  • 

313 


THE  KEY  NOTE 


"I  promise  not  to  be,"  responded  her  hus- 
band. 

"But  you  can't  help  it,  dear.  Diana,  why 
should  n't  we  have  a  little  dinner  on  the 
yacht  and  Mr.  Barrison  would  probably  sing 
afterward,  and  your  father  could  hear  him. 
Let  me  see  now.  Who  would  we  have  ? " 

"I  don't  care,"  put  in  Mr.  Wilbur,  "so  long 
as  you  have  that  sparkling  person  who  sat 
beside  the  boy  at  dinner." 

"Mrs.  Lowell,"  said  Diana.  "I'm  so  glad 
you  appreciate  Mrs.  Lowell,  Daddy." 

"I'm  not  blind  in  one  eye  and  I  can  see  out 
of  the  other.  I  have  my  hearing,  too,  and  her 
voice  is  as  fresh  as  a  robin's." 

"But,  oh,  speaking  of  voices!"  exclaimed 
Mrs.  Wilbur,  rolling  up  her  eyes.  "Well,  then, 
Diana,  supposing  we  have  just  Mr.  Barrison 
and  Mr.  Kelly  and  Mrs.  Lowell." 

"And  Veronica,"  said  Diana. 

"The  young  person  who  waits  on  the 
table,"  explained  Mrs.  Wilbur.  "She  and  her 
aunt,  Miss  Burridge,  are  very  worthy  people." 

"Veronica  and  Mr.  Kelly  are  such  good 
friends,"  said  Diana.  "It  would  be  too  bad 
not  to  ask  her." 

"Mr.  Kelly  is  Mr.  Barrison's  accompanist," 
put  in  Mrs.  Wilbur. 


REUNION 

"Harrison?"  repeated  Mr.  Wilbur.  "Isn't 
that  the  name  of  the  husky  I  met  on  the  road 
just  now?"  The  speaker  removed  his  cigar 
to  ask  his  daughter  the  question. 

"Yes,  Mamma,  Mr.  Barrison  came  up  to 
take  me  down  to  row  out  in  Mr.  Kelly's  boat 
to  see  the  stranger  in  the  cove.  So  when  we 
encountered  Daddy  on  the  road,  I  persuaded 
him  to  give  them  an  order  to  go  over  the 
yacht." 

In  spite  of  herself,  the  missing  color  came 
back  into  the  girl's  cheeks  while  she  related 
this,  and  Charles  Wilbur,  whom  no  circum- 
stance connected  with  his  daughter  ever 
escaped,  observed  it. 

When  next  he  was  alone  with  his  wife,  he 
asked  a  few  questions  as  to  Diana's  regard 
for  the  singer. 

"No,  no,  my  dear,"  she  returned  scorn- 
fully. "You  don't  know  Diana.  We  have  an 
extraordinary  daughter,  there  is  no  mistake 
about  that,  but  she  was  telling  me  the  other 
day  of  her  ideal  for  a  husband.  He  is  a  fright, 
I  can  assure  you,  but  full  of  charm  and  all 
that.  She  does  n't  want  to  marry  any  man 
who  is  attractive  to  women." 

"Wants  to  fool  the  vamps,  eh?"  was  the 
laughing  reply. 

315 


THE  KEY  NOTE 


"Why  doesn't  she  look  at  her  daddy?" 
was  the  affectionate  response.  "The  most 
attractive  being  on  earth  and  one  who  never 
gave  me  a  heartache  ? " 

Charles  Wilbur  slipped  his  arm  around  his 
wife  and  kissed  her.  They  were  the  best  of 
friends. 

"Don't  you  know,  my  dear,  that  a  girl's 
father  is  always  unique  ?  He  is  n't  a  man." 

"Oh,"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Wilbur,  harking 
back  to  her  find.  "But,  Charlie,  you  don't 
know  how  delighted  I  am  to  have  such  a  prize 
for  Pittsfield.  I  must  show  you  my  list." 

She  produced  it  and  Mr.  Wilbur,  frowning 
patiently,  looked  it  over.  He  hated  lists. 


CHAPTER  XXI 

GOOD-BYES 

BUT  before  the  dinner  party  came  off,  Philip 
Barrison  did  take  the  steel  man  deep-sea 
fishing.  Barney  Kelly  was  so  overwhelmed 
by  the  luxury  of  the  yacht  that  he  refrained 
from  saying  a  word  against  the  nocturnal 
expedition.  He  happened  to  meet  Veronica 
down  at  the  post-office  and  gave  her  his 
reasons. 

"  I  say  it 's  only  fair  that  Mr.  Wilbur  should 
be  racked  and  tortured,"  he  said.  "Any  man 
so  deep  in  the  lap  of  luxury  should  learn  a 
little  of  how  the  other  half  lives.  That  yacht 
is  the  slickest  thing  I  ever  saw.  The  deep- 
cushioned  armchairs  on  the  deck  are  uphol- 
stered in  a  light-green  leather  that  you  would 
think  a  drop  of  water  would  deface,  and  the 
salt  spray  does  n't  faze  it  in  the  least.  Then 
the  master's  room  with  its  twin  beds  is  di- 
vided from  the  bathroom  by  a  sliding  door 
which  is  a  huge  mirror,  and  the  dining-saloon 
is  in  mahogany  with  the  exquisite  china  and 
glass  all  enameled  with  the  yacht's  flag." 

Veronica's  mouth  always  grew  very  small 

317 


THE  KEY  NOTE 


when  she  was  deeply  interested  and  her  eyes 
very  wide,  and  they  looked  so  now  as  she 
listened. 

"Just  think,"  she  said,  "I  am  going  to  see 
it." 

"Good  work.  I  wanted  you  to." 

"  I  'm  going  to  eat  off  those  dishes  and  sit 
in  the  easy-chairs." 

"What 's  happening  ?" 

"A  dinner  party,  and  you  are  in  it.  Miss 
Diana  told  me." 

"  I  shall  be  careful  to  eat  nothing  between 
now  and  then,"  declared  Barney,  "for  I 
suspect  that  chef  of  being  an  artist.  Let  us 
not  count  on  it  too  much,  though,  Veronica. 
Barrison  takes  Mr.  Wilbur  on  that  unspeak- 
able expedition  to-morrow  morning.  We  all 
may  be  thrown  out  of  that  dinner  party  by 
the  violence  of  his  feelings." 

As  it  turned  out,  however,  Kelly's  appre- 
hensions were  not  realized.  Mr.  Wilbur's 
wife  and  daughter  were  on  the  yacht  to  greet 
him  when  he  returned  from  his  novel  experi- 
ence at  nearly  noon  of  the  next  day.  He  had 
changed  his  clothing  at  "Grammy's"  and 
was  full  of  praise  of  that  old  gentlewoman. 

"Nice  people  as  ever  lived,  those  folks," 
he  said  as  he  stretched  himself  out  in  a  chaise 


GOOD-BYES 

longue  on  the  deck  under  the  awning,  and 
was  served  with  iced  drinks. 

"Mamma  has  n't  met  Mr.  Barrison's 
grandmother,"  said  Diana  as  she  placed  the 
cigars  beside  her  father. 

"Oh,  he  comes  of  superior  people,  you  can 
see  that,"  said  Mrs.  Wilbur.  "  Charlie,  I  'm 
going  to  invite  Mrs.  Coolidge." 

"All  right.  I  guess  she  can  stand  it." 

"Stand  it!"  echoed  Mrs.  Wilbur.  "You 
don't  know  what  you  're  talking  about." 

"He  is  still  thinking  about  the  fishing, 
Mamma,"  put  in  Diana. 

"Yes,  and  young  Barrison,"  said  Mr.  Wil- 
bur. "He  's  a  tonic,  that  chap.  The  way  he 
went  over  that  boat,  regular  Douglas  Fair- 
banks stunts  he  did.  He  's  a  hundred-per- 
'cent  man,  whether  he  can  sing  or  not."  The 
speaker  regarded  his  daughter  out  of  the  tail 
of  his  eye  as  he  talked,  and  he  saw  the  slight 
compression  of  her  lips  and  the  glow  in  her 
eyes. 

"I  offered  him  a  cigar,  but  he  shook  his 
head:  'My  voice  is  my  fortune,  sir,  he  said.' 

"Sensible,"  said  Mrs.  Wilbur,  not  looking 
up  from  the  silk  she  was  knitting. 

"When  are  you  giving  your  dinner  party  ?" 

"To-morrow  night." 

319 


THE  KEY  NOTE 


"That  is  good,  for  we  must  be  on  our  way," 
said  Mr.  Wilbur.  He  yawned.  "I'm  dead 
to  the  world.  I  must  go  to  sleep." 

"Daddy,"  said  Diana,  "are  we  really  going 
away  at  once?" 

He  took  her  hand,  and  it  was  cold.  "Yes, 
I  think  we  shall  have  to  be  off."  He  regarded 
her  with  affectionate  thoughtfulness.  "  I  want 
to  go  somewhere  and  find  some  roses  for  you." 

The  roses  suddenly  bloomed  in  the  girl's 
face  under  his  searching  eyes. 

"You  want  to  go  with  your  old  dad,  don't 
you?"  he  added  affectionately. 

"Of  course  I  do,  dearest,"  she  answered, 
and  he  forgave  her  the  lie  because  she  looked 
so  pretty  in  her  embarrassment.  "But  I 
have  packing  to  do,  you  know.  I  can't  go 
without  any  warning." 

He  continued  to  gaze  at  her  and  to  hold 
her  cold  hand. 

"That  young  Caruso  of  yours  is  quite  a 
boy,"  he  said  irrelevantly.  "No  lugs,  honest, 
substantial." 

"He  is  more  than  that,  Daddy.  He  is  a 
self-made  man." 

"Did  a  good  job,  too;  physically  at  least." 

"No;  more  than  that;  he  has  been  a  hero 
to  get  where  he  is  in  his  art." 

320 


GOOD-BYES 

"Told  you  so,  eh?" 

"No,  indeed."  The  roses  bloomed  brighter. 
The  hand  twitched  in  his.  "He  gratified  my 
curiosity  one  day  by  telling  me  his  experi- 
ences. He  thinks  they  were  entirely  common- 
place. He  was  very  poor  and  with  no  influ- 
ence, but  his  persistence  and  determination 


won.'1 


"That 's  the  stuff,"  returned  Charles  Wil- 
bur quietly.  "I  like  the  way  he  treats  his 
grandmother,  too." 

"And,  Charlie,"  said  his  wife,  looking  up 
from  her  work,  "I  believe  I'll  invite  some 
people  from  Lenox.  I  '11  have  a  house  party." 

"Very  well,  my  dear."  Her  husband 
smiled  toward  her  preoccupied  face,  and 
released  his  daughter's  hand. 

"Now,  you  run  along  up  to  the  Inn, 
Diana,"  said  Mrs.  Wilbur,  "and  pack.  Then 
have  Mr.  Blake  bring  the  trunk  and  our  bags 
aboard  this  afternoon." 

"Not  go  back  to  the  Inn  at  all,  afterward, 
then  ?"  asked  Diana. 

"No.  There  won't  be  any  necessity.  I 
told  that  perfectly  crazy  Leonie  to  have  my 
things  and  hers  ready  and  bring  them  aboard 
before  dinner.  She  looked  at  me  as  if  I  had 
struck  her  down." 

321 


THE  KEY  NOTE 


"Poor  Leonie,"  breathed  Diana. 

Mrs.  Wilbur  shrugged  her  shoulders.  "I 
shall  be  lucky  if  she  does  n't  tell  me  she  has 
decided  to  marry  Bill  Lindsay  and  stay  here." 
The  lady  laughed  and  looked  at  her  husband. 
"I  should  have  to  invite  them  to  take  their 
wedding  trip  on  the  yacht,  for  I  can't  let  her 
go  until  she  has  shown  some  one  else  how  to 
do  my  hair." 

"Let  her  teach  me,  immediately,  to-day," 
said  Diana  quickly. 

Her  mother  stared  at  her.  "You  don't 
want  her  to  marry  Bill  Lindsay,  I  hope!" 

"I  do  not  care  whom  she  marries,"  re- 
turned Diana  with  amazing  spirit.  "The 
important,  colossally  important  thing  is  that 
she  should  marry  whom  she  pleases,  when  she 
pleases." 

Mrs.  Wilbur  continued  to  stare  while  her 
husband's  closed  eyes  opened  and  he  also 
regarded  Diana  as  she  stood  up,  her  hands 
clenched. 

"That  Was  Helen  Loring's  creed,"  said 
Mrs.  Wilbur  dryly.  "There  is  a  better  one. 
Don't  forget  that." 

The  girl's  head  drooped  and  the  roses 
faded. 

Ten  minutes  later  she  went  down  the  awn- 
322 


GOOD-BYES 

ing-guarded  steps  at  the  yacht's  side,  and 
entered  the  waiting  boat  with  its  shining 
brasses  and  natty,  white-uniformed  sailors, 
to  go  ashore. 

Miss  Burridge  was  quite  touched  by  the 
feeling  displayed  by  her  star  boarder  at  their 
parting. 

"I  do  not  remember  any  period  of  my  life 
which  has  been  so  happy  as  the  last  six 
weeks,"  said  the  girl,  her  lip  quivering. 
"Would  you  take  care  of  me  if  I  should  take 
the  Inn  for  next  summer  and  come  here  with 
friends  a  part  of  the  season  ?" 

"Take  the  Inn,  Miss  Wilbur?" 

"Yes.  My  father  said  that  might  be  more 
sensible  than  for  me  to  build  here.  I  would 
make  satisfactory  arrangements  with  you. 
Perhaps  Veronica  would  come  with  you, 
then  you  would  n't  mind  if  you  had  the  place 
to  yourselves  much  of  the  season." 

"Of  course,  I  should  like  an  easy  berth 
like  that,  Miss  Wilbur."  Miss  Burridge 
laughed  with  a  suspicion  of  moisture  around 
her  lashes  at  the  pressure  of  Diana's  hands, 
and  the  seriousness  of  her  plaintive  eyes. 

"I  must  say  good-bye  to  Bertie.  I  wonder 
where  he  is." 

323 


THE  KEY  NOTE 


"Up  in  his  room,  I  think.  He  came  in  a 
few  minutes  ago." 

There  Diana  found  him.  He  looked  up 
from  the  stretcher  over  which  he  was  working 
and  was  surprised  to  see  his  friend  in  her 
street  clothes.  * 

"Are  you  going  to  Boston  again  ? "  he  asked. 

"I  am  leaving  permanently,"  she  answered, 
and  she  took  his  hand  and  drew  him  down  to 
a  seat  beside  her.  He  looked  at  her  as  she 
bit  her  lip  while  she  smiled  on  him,  and  he 
thought  she  was  going  to  cry.  "We  shall  be 
here  a  couple  more  nights,  but  I  shall  be  on 
the  yacht.  Have  you  seen  it,  Bertie  ?  Would 
you  like  to  come  down  with  me  now  and  go 
over  it?" 

"I  'd  like  to  make  a  sketch  of  it."  The  boy 
looked  interested. 

"Very  well,  you  shall.  Bill  is  coming  for  us 
in  a  few  minutes.  You  drive  down  with  us; 
but  I  want  to  tell  you,  before  we  go,  how 
happy  I  am  for  you." 

"You  don't  look  happy  at  all,  Miss  Diana. 
You  look  sad.  Are  you  sad  ?" 

"I  am  a  little  bit  —  leaving  here,  and  all 
the  friends.  Do  you  know  that  we  are  related 
in  some  far-off  way,  Bertie  ?  You  might  call 
me  Cousin  Diana.  You  must  n't  forget  me." 


GOOD-BYES 

"No,  I  won't  forget  you,"  replied  the  boy, 
noticing  that  her  lip  quivered.  "Mrs.  Lowell 
will  write  to  you." 

"Yes,  I  'm  sure  she  will,"  said  Diana, 
touching  her  eyes  quickly  with  her  handker- 
chief, "and  Mrs.  Lowell  is  a  wonderful 
friend.  She  has  told  me  of  her  arrangements 
for  you,  told  me  about  the  fine,  strapping 
young  fellow,  Mr.  Lawrence,  who  is  going 
to  be  your  companion  and  tutor.  I  expect 
when  I  see  you  next  that  you  will  stand  up, 
straight  as  a  young  soldier  —  " 

"Straight  as — as  Mr.  Barrison,"  said  Bert, 
pulling  his  slender  shoulders  back  hopefully. 

"Yes,  as  —  as  he  is,  and  I  know  you  will 
like  this  young  Mr.  Lawrence,  and  do  every 
thing  just  as  Mrs.  Lowell  desires  to  have  you. 
I  am  glad  you  can  stay  on  longer  here,  for  it 
is  —  it  is  a  place  to  be  happy,  is  n't  it, 
Bertie?" 

Diana's  lips  quivered  again  dangerously. 
"There,  I  hear  the  motor.  Bring  your  sketch- 
book, and  come." 

They  descended  to  where  Leonie  was 
standing  beside  the  bags  in  her  trim  street 
clothes.  Matt  Blake's  wagon  was  waiting, 
too,  and  he  carried  Diana's  trunk,  and  the 
various  and  sundry  suitcases  and  bags  which 

325 


THE  KEY  NOTE 


represented  the  Wilbur  party,  out  to  his 
wagon. 

Miss  Burridge  and  Veronica  saw  them  off. 
Mrs.  Lowell  was  away  in  the  woods  with  her 
bird-glasses,  and  the  other  boarders  were 
fortunately  absent.  Diana  left  her  good- 
byes for  them,  and  then  with  a  lump  in  her 
throat  got  into  the  car.  Leonie  sat  in  front 
with  her  cavalier,  and  all  the  way  down  the 
road,  her  head  was  popping  out  and  a  stream 
of  "adieux"  pouring  forth  upon  animate  and 
inanimate  objects  alike. 

Herbert  Loring  sat  beside  his  friend  and, 
feeling  wonderingly  her  need  for  comfort, 
slipped  his  hand  into  hers,  and  she  held  it 
tightly. 

Diana  had  many  good-byes  to  say  at  the 
float,  while  her  baggage  was  being  lifted  into 
the  yacht's  boat,  waiting  with  its  picturesque 
crew.  At  last  they  were  off,  and  Bertie's  eyes 
were  greedily  fixed  on  the  lines  of  the  hand- 
some white  yacht. 

After  the  trunks  were  placed  on  the  yacht, 
she  let  Bert  look  about,  but  he  was  eager  to 
get  his  sketch.  So  she  allowed  him  to  descend 
again  into  the  small  boat  and  put  him  in 
command  of  it.  So  he  was  taken  to  the  point 
he  indicated  and  remained  there  until  he 

326 


GOOD-BYES 

was  satisfied  with  his  sketch.  Then  the  flash- 
ing oars  fell  into  position  and  he  was  rowed 
back  to  the  shore.  Diana  waved  him  a  last 
good-bye.  Her  father  was  taking  his  much- 
needed  forty  winks,  her  mother  was  down- 
stairs somewhere,  and  Leonie  stood  near  her, 
straining  her  eyes  toward  the  float  and  wav- 
ing to  a  waiting  figure  thereon. 

"Adieu,  charmante,  belle  ile,"  she  mur- 
mured, sniffing  audibly.  "Mademoiselle,  c'est 
comme  si  je  quittais  chez  moi." 

"Oui,  Leonie.  Nous  reviendrons  quelque 
jour." 

There  was  a  difference  in  their  situations. 
Leonie  had  no  hope  of  entertaining  Bill 
Lindsay  at  dinner. 

That  function  came  off  the  next  evening. 
Mr.  Wilbur  had  spent  much  of  the  afternoon 
with  Philip  Barrison.  The  latter  had  taken 
him  out  to  the  pound  and  he  had  watched 
the  drawing  of  the  nets,  and  had  had  long 
confabs  with  the  fishermen,  listening  to  their 
stories,  scattering  cigars  like  hail,  and  enjoy- 
ing himself  thoroughly. 

He  returned  to  the  yacht  in  high  good  hu- 
I  mor  and  made  ready  for  the  farewell  festivity. 

"That 's  a  regular  fellow,  Barrison,"  he  said 
to  his  wife,  as  he  was  making  his  toilet. 

327 


THE  KEY  NOTE 


"Oh,  you  wait,"  she  replied. 

"I  don't  care  a  darn  how  he  sings,"  re- 
marked Mr.  Wilbur,  "but  in  his  case  a  man  's 
a  man  for  a'  that.  I  don't  wonder  —  "  he 
stopped. 

"What  don't  you  wonder,  dear?" 

"Oh  —  at  his  popularity.  My  dear,  dear 
Laura,"  he  added  after  a  pause,  smiling  at  his 
reflection  in  the  glass  as  he  used  his  military 
brushes,  "you  're  a  wonderful  woman." 

"Why,  thank  you,  Charlie.  What  have  I 
done  now?"  As  he  did  not  reply,  but  con- 
tinued to  smile  into  his  own  eyes,  she  gave 
his  arm  a  little  squeeze  as  she  passed  him. 
"I  won  you,  anyway,"  she  said  triumphantly, 
"and  I  need  a  compliment  or  two,  for  I 
never  knew  Diana  to  be  so  strange  and 
changeable  as  she  has  been  to-day.  The  dear 
girl  can't  be  well,  and  I  don't  think  I  have 
realized  quite  the  awfulness  of  her  experience 
with  Herbert  Loring.  She  was  actually  in 
danger  for  a  time  of  being  accused  of  hasten- 
ing his  death.  Why,  it  was  dreadful." 

"Poor  Diana,  poor  little  girl,"  returned 
Charles  Wilbur  ruminatively. 


CHAPTER  XXII 

THE   DINNER   PARTY 

MRS.  LOWELL  and  Veronica  were  the  first  of 
the  dinner  guests  to  arrive.  They  were  re- 
ceived with  remarkable  effusiveness  by  Diana 
as  links  with  the  life  she  was  reluctantly 
leaving. 

"Did  you  see  anything  of  our  musician 
friends  as  you  came  down  to  the  float?" 
asked  Mrs.  Wilbur. 

"No,  not  just  now,"  replied  Mrs.  Lowell, 
"but  earlier  in  the  day,  I  had  'occasion  to  go 
to  the  post-office  and  there  I  found  Mr.  Kelly 
in  a  state  of  great  excitement.  It  seems  that 
Mr.  Barrison  has  been  summoned  to  New 
York  to  have  his  voice  tried  out  for  the  opera. 
There  is  some  trouble  and  disappointment 
about  a  tenor  who  was  expected." 

"That  is  exciting,"  remarked  Mr.  Wilbur, 
looking  approvingly  at  the  lady  with  the 
fresh  robin-voice  and  the  charming  cos- 
tume. 

"Miss  Veronica  and  I  are  all  eyes,  Mr.  Wil- 
bur," she  continued.  "I'm  sure  you  allow 
newcomers  to  stare  as  much  as  they  please." 

329 


THE  KEY  NOTE 


"  Certainly.  Let  me  show  you  some  of  our 
snug  arrangements  for  'a  life  on  the  ocean 


wave.' 


The  guests  followed  him,  and  Mrs.  Wilbur 
and  her  daughter  regarded  one  another,  the 
elder  with  some  consternation,  the  younger 
with  brilliant  eyes  and  flaming  cheeks. 

"  I  do  hope  he  won't  have  to  break  his  date 
with  me,"  said  Mrs.  Wilbur. 

"Perhaps  to  sing  with  the  Metropolitan  is 
more  important,"  returned  Diana. 

"You  never  have  taken  any  interest  in  my 
plan,"  said  her  mother,  her  eyes  snapping. 
"  I  'm  sure  I  don't  know  what  has  come  over 
you  on  this  island.  From  the  time  you  came 
back  to  the  yacht  yesterday,  I  have  had  to 
speak  twice  to  make  you  hear  anything,  and 
I  Ve  been  afraid  every  minute  that  you  would 
let  your  father  see  that  you  were  depressed 
at  leaving  this  foolish  place  and  going  with 
him." 

"I  am  perfectly  willing  to  go,  Mamma," 
was  the  docile  reply,  the  change  of  heart  that 
had  taken  place  in  the  last  fifteen  minutes 
not  being  explained. 

"Well,  I'm  glad  to  hear  it,"  declared  Mrs. 
Wilbur,  placated.  "You  are  looking  wonder- 
fully well  to-night,  Diana.  Clinging  stuff 

330 


THE  DINNER  PARTY 


suits  you,  and  in  that  silver  girdle  you  have 
quite  a  classical  appearance." 

"Do  I  look  statuesque,  Mamma?"  Diana 
smiled,  but  not  pensively.  Her  eyes  were 
alive  with  anticipation  of  this  one  more,  this 
last  evening.  "To-day  I  have  been  remember- 
ing my  first  days  at  the  island,  all  alone  with 
Miss  Burridge,  the  long,  cold  evenings  with 
their  wonderful  coloring,  the  vesper  songs  of 
the  hardy  robins  and  sparrows;  the  grinding 
pebbles  swept  back  and  forth  on  the  beach; 
the  entrancing  odors  that  one  cannot  name^ 
so  mingled  of  balsam  and  sea  —  the  great 
spaces  of  earth  and  sky  — "  Something  seemed 
to  stop  the  rush  of  reminiscence. 

Mrs.  Wilbur  regarded  her  child's  kindling 
face  with  fond  admiration.  "Yes,"  she  re- 
turned, laughing  softly,  "I  know  how  all  that 
captured  you,  but  what  has  it  to  do  with  your 
being  statuesque?" 

"Oh," — Diana  seemed  to  come  to  herself 
with  a  little  start, — "Miss  Burridge  used  to 
say  sometimes  that  I  looked  like  a  statue," 
she  returned,  rather  lamely. 

Motor  boats  were  constantly  putt-pbtt-ing 
around  the  yacht. 

"I'm  glad,"  said  Mrs.  Wilbur,  looking 
down  upon  them  now,  "that  this  is  the  last 


THE  KEY  NOTE 


night  we  are  to  stay  here.  Did  n't  those  in- 
quisitive little  things  keep  you  awake  all  last 
night,  just  like  gnats  ? " 

"I  did  n't  sleep  much,"  admitted  Diana. 

"There  they  come,"  said  Mrs.  Wilbur, 
suddenly,  looking  across  at  the  float. 

Two  men  in  white  flannels  were  stepping 
aboard  the  waiting  boat  whose  brasses  flashed 
in  the  light  of  the  lowering  sun.  Diana's 
heart  bounded  toward  her  throat. 

"Well,  I  shall  make  him  understand  that 
he  must  tell  me  just  as  soon  as  he  knows 
himself,"  said  Mrs.  Wilbur  rather  fretfully, 
watching  the  approach. 

The  dinner  party  was  a  gay  one.  When  the 
guests  were  seated  at  table,  they  looked  out 
through  a  wide  semicircle  of  glass  at  the  fa- 
miliar sights  of  the  cove — its  wooded  shore, 
and  the  silhouettes  of  great  waves  far  out 
against  the  horizon. 

"I  shall  not  forgive  Kelly  for  giving  me 
away,"  said  Philip  when  his  host  congratu- 
lated him  on  his  call  to  New  York.  "How 
shall  I  feel  when  you  all  hear  that  I  did  n't 
pass  muster?" 

"Believe  me,"  said  Barney  feelingly,  "if 
that  proves  to  be  the  case,  you  '11  all  have 
cause  to  congratulate  him.  The  life  of  an 

332 


THE  DINNER  PARTY 


American  singer  in  a  Grand  Opera  Company 
is  one  fight,  if  it  is  n't  an  inferno.  The  call-boy 
forgets  to  call  him,  the  prompter  forgets  to 
prompt  him.  Every  curtain-call  is  begrudged 
him." 

"I'm  glad  you  're  husky,  Barrison,"  re- 
marked Mr.  Wilbur. 

"Yes,"  laughed  Philip.  "Kelly  has  been 
an  industrious  crepe-hanger  ever  since  the 
letter  arrived.  At  the  same  time  he  shoves  me 
on." 

"Oh,  certainly,"  said  Barney,  setting  his 
lips  energetically.  "Must  be  done.  I  think 
he  's  safe  to  win." 

"I  am  thinking  about  October  and  Pitts- 
field,"  said  Mrs.  Wilbur  ruefully. 

Philip  turned  toward  her.  "I  think  there 
is  little  doubt  that  I  shall  be  with  you,"  he 
answered. 

"Mamma  does  n't  mean  that,"  declared 
Diana  of  the  steadily  burning  cheeks.  "She 
wants  you  to  succeed,  of  course." 

"Yes,  Barrison,"  added  her  father,  "but 
when  your  voice  fails,  we  know  what  you  can 
do:  skip  around  a  vessel  at  sea  for  the  movies." 

"You  rather  liked  that  fracas,  did  n't  you, 
Mr.  Wilbur?"  returned  Philip. 

"Indeed,  I  did.   When  you  come  here  to 

333 


THE  KEY  NOTE 


recuperate  from  the  atrocities  of  singer  allies, 
I'll  join  you  and  we  will  repeat  the  dose." 

"Dose  is  the  word,"  put  in  Kelly  in  an 
undertone. 

When  finally  the  party  adjourned  to  the 
deck,  they  fell  into  groups:  Mrs.  Lowell  and 
Diana,  Veronica  and  Barney,  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Wilbur  and  Philip.  The  sun  had  gonedown, 
and  the  western  sky  was  still  crimson. 

Diana  put  her  hand  over  in  Mrs.  Lowell's 
lap.  "We  know  how  violet  the  sea  looks  this 
minute  from  the  Inn  piazza,"  she  said.  "You 
will  go  on  seeing  it." 

"And  you  will  carry  it  away,"  returned 
Mrs.  Lowell.  "That,  and  many  another  pic- 
ture which  you  will  stop  to  look  at  sometimes 
on  a  winter  day." 

"Yes,  they  are  mine,"  said  Diana  gravely. 
"Even  this  pond  of  a  cove  with  the  green 
banks  and  woods  rising  all  about  it.  This  is  a 
picture  that  I  love,  too." 

"  Bert  was  quite  troubled  because  he  thought 
you  seemed  sad  at  leaving." 

"Good  little  sympathetic'  fellow,"  said 
Diana.  "I  don't  want  to  believe,  Mrs.  Lowell, 
that  this  is  good-bye  for  us." 

"I  hope  it  is  not.  New  York  and  Phila- 
delphia are  not  far  apart,  but  you  will  begin 

334 


THE  DINNER  PARTY 


to  be  absorbed  in  other  interests  as  soon  as 
this  yacht  leaves  the  cove." 

Diana  shook  her  head.  "My  memory  is 
not  so  short." 

Mrs.  Lowell  looked  at  her  with  thoughtful 
affection.  "I  hope  they  won't  spoil  you,  my 
dear,"  she  said  wistfully.  "It  is  very  remark- 
able that  you  have  come  along  so  far  with 
1  a  heart  at  leisure  from  itself.'  ' 

"Oh,  do  you  think  I  have  that  ?"  returned 
Diana,  looking  up  with  seeking  eyes. 

"  I  do,  my  dear.  The  key  note  of  happy  use- 
fulness is  unselfishness.  I  have  been  surprised 
by  your  unselfishness,  Diana  —  under  cir- 
cumstances that  usually  make  for  the  other 
thing." 

"But,  Mrs.  Lowell,  I  am  frightfully  self- 
ish!" exclaimed  the  girl.  "You  don't  know!" 

Her  friend  smiled.  "Well,  if  you  see  it, 
that  is  half  the  battle.  The  other  half  is  put- 
ting it  down  —  destroying  it." 

"It  is  usually  about  —  about  people," 
said  Diana  unsteadily.  "I  —  I  am  afraid  I 
am  a  monopolist  — " 

"My  word,  but  you  people  are  interested 
in  each  other,"  said  Philip  Barrison,  suddenly 
appearing  beside  them.  "Just  lift  your  eyes." 

They  looked  up  and  saw  the  moon  rising 

335 


THE  KEY  NOTE 


majestically  above  the  hill-road,  and  the  cove 
beginning  to  glitter. 

"Now  that  must  n't  make  any  difference," 
said  Mrs.  Wilbur  firmly.  "The  moon  won't 
run  away  and  Mr.  Barrison  has  consented  to 
sing  for  us." 

"The  minutes  are  going  so  fast,  so  fast," 
thought  Diana,  "and  there  will  be  no  more." 

Mrs.  Wilbur  herded  her  group  together  and 
convoyed  them  to  the  music-room. 

"This  is  really  an  especial  treat  for  Mr. 
Wilbur,"  she  said  to  Philip.  "You  know  he  is 
the  only  one  of  us  who  has  n't  heard  you." 

"And  you  need  n't  imagine,"  added  Mr. 
Wilbur,  "that  you  are  singing  for  the  inv 
presario  of  the  Metropolitan,  either.  So  long 
as  I  am  the  chief  beneficiary  to-night,  it  is 
only  fair  to  tell  you,  Barrison,  that  musically 
I  am  very  despicable.  'The  Last  Rose  of  Sum- 
mer,' and  'Annie  Laurie,'  are  where  I  am.  So 
don't  waste  any  moderne  stuff  on  me." 

Philip  smiled  as  he  moved  to  the  piano,  and 
the  company  chose  their  places.  Mrs.  Wilbur 
took  a  seat  beside  her  husband,  enveloped  in 
the  anticipatory  glow  of  the  matinee  girl. 

"I  want  to  be  where  I  can  hold  your  hand 
if  I  need  to,  dear,"  she  said.  Her  husband 
glanced  at  Diana,  flushed  and  grave,  as  she 

336 


THE  DINNER  PARTY 


placed  herself  on  a  low  stool  near  the  door, 
then  back  at  the  upstanding  white  figure  be- 
side the  piano. 

Philip  said  a  few  words  to  his  accompanist 
as  Barney's  fingers  strayed  softly  over  the 
keys  —  then  a  familiar  strain  began,  and  the 
heralded  voice  was  heard: 

"Believe  me,  if  all  those  endearing  young  charms 
That  I  gaze  on  so  fondly  to-day — " 

At  the  close,  the  host  was  smiling  and  nod- 
ding while  his  wife's  eyes  challenged  him  in 
mute  triumph.  Philip  discoursed  with  Barney 
a  few  moments  and  apparently  the  pigeon- 
holes of  the  accompanist's  mind  were  well- 
stored  and  the  contents  available,  for  the  old 
favorite  was  followed  by  "If  I  but  Knew,"  "At 
Parting,"  "To  Mary,"  and  so  on,  Mr.  Wilbur 
growing  more  enthusiastic  at  each  number. 

"You  can  speak,  young  man,  so  as  to  be 
understood,  and  you  're  the  singer  for  me," 
he  said.  "You  have  been  very  indulgent. 
Now  if  you  don't  mind,  let  us  have  'Drink  to 
me  only. ' 

Philip,  for  the  first  time,  turned  and  looked 
directly  at  Diana.  Her  father  noticed  it.  He 
was  becoming  every  moment  more  alert  as  to 
the  hundred-per-cent  man  in  the  white 
flannels. 

337 


THE  KEY  NOTE 


The  song  followed.  Diana,  on  her  low  seat, 
had  her  elbows  on  her  knees  and  her  chin  in 
her  l^ands,  and  never  once  looked  at  the  singer. 

"I  have  one  more  for  you,"  said  Philip 
when  the  applause  had  died  away.  "It  is  a 
song  of  Maude  Valerie  White's,  which  I  think 
fits  into  your  category,  Mr.  Wilbur.  It  has 
been  haunting  me  of  late. " 

He  turned  for  a  few  words  to  the  accom- 
plished Barney,  during  which  Diana  looked  up 
questioningly,  apprehensively.  She  felt  she 
could  not  bear  much  more  of  the  beating  upon 
her  heart-strings. 

Philip  turned  back,  and,  after  only  one 
running  chord  of  prelude,  began  to  sing: 

"  Let  us  forget  we  loved  each  other  much, 
Let  us  forget  we  ever  have  to  part. 
Let  us  forget  that  any  look  or  touch 
First  let  in  either  to  the  other's  heart. 

"Only  we  '11  sit  upon  the  daisied  grass, 
And  hear  the  larks  and  see  the  swallows  pass. 
Only  we  '11  live  awhile  as  children  play, 
Without  to-morrow,  without  yesterday." 

The  last  note  was  one  of  those  high  ones 
which  Kelly  had  stated  did  such  fell  work 
upon  the  feminine  heart,  and  Mrs.  Wilbur's 
lips  were  tremulous  as  she  met  her  husband's 
eyes. 

338 


THE  DINNER  PARTY 


"  Say,  my  dear,"  he  said,  while  clapping  his 
hands  manfully,  "you  have  Barrison  sing 
that  at  Pittsneld,  and  I'll  come  to  your  party 
and  make  love  to  you  the  rest  of  the 
night." 

Philip  smiled  and  nodded,  and  drifted  away 
from  the  piano,  while  Barney  got  up  and 
stretched  his  legs. 

"Where's  Diana?"  exclaimed  her  father, 
and  instantly  condemned  himself  for  drawing 
attention  to  her  departure. 

"Oh,  but  she  heard  it,  I'm  sure,"  said  Mrs. 
Wilbur  apologetically,  still  wiping  her  eyes. 
"I'm  sure  no  one  appreciates  your  singing 
more  than  Diana." 

"Gone  to  look  after  her  moon,  probably," 
said  Philip.  "You  know  a  goddess  has  her 
duties." 

"There  have  been  things  going  on,"  thought 
Charles  Wilbur,  with  ever-deepening  con- 
viction. "Mr.  Kelly,  you  are  a  wizard," 
he  said,  shaking  Barney  by  the  hand  while 
Mrs.  Lowell  and  Veronica  were  thanking 
'  Philip. 

"You  have  both  been  so  good  to  us,"  said 
Mrs.  Wilbur  warmly.  "Why,  Diana,  where 
have  you  been  ?  We  missed  you,"  she  added, 
as  the  girl  came  into  the  room. 

339 


THE  KEY  NOTE 


"I  wanted  to  see  if  the  steward  under- 
stood," she  replied.  "I  think,  if  we  go  on  deck 
now,  we  shall  have  something  else  refreshing 
after  this  delightful  feast."  Her  father  watched 
the  girl  approach  Barney.  "Mr.  Kelly,  you 
are  wonderful.  I  remember  the  comical  things 
you  said  about  your  insignificance  at  recitals. 
I  Ve  seen  again  how  apocryphal  those  state- 
ments are." 

Her  father  continued  to  watch  for  her  thanks 
to  Philip.  Apparently  there  were  none  forth- 
coming, and  fortunately  Mrs.  Wilbur  was  too 
busy  talking  to  him  herself  to  notice  it. 

"But  won't  Mr.  Kelly  play  something  be- 
fore we  leave?"  she  said  supplicatingly. 

"Oh,  no,  my  dear  lady,"  returned  Barney 
lightly.  "One  has  no  appetite  for  dinner  after 
dessert." 

They  went  on  deck,  and  the  moon  was 
glorifying  the  still  cove.  Apparently  the  motor 
boats  had  sated  their  curiosity  as  to  the 
yacht,  and  all  was  peaceful.  The  company 
sat  about  in  a  social  group  and  ate  and  drank. 
Barney  Kelly  told  some  amusing  experiences 
which  he  and  Philip  had  had  on  the  road  last 
season.  Diana  scarcely  heard  his  anecdotes, 
but  she  laughed  with  the  rest. 

"Without  to-morrow,  without  yesterday." 
340 


THE  DINNER  PARTY 


The  words  sang  themselves  over  and  over 
in  her  heart,  and  her  cheeks  still  burned.  The 
minutes  were  flying,  flying,  and  Philip  was 
sitting  near  her  mother,  who  waited  on  him 
assiduously  and  rallied  him  upon  his  lack  of 
appetite. 

"Say,  boy,"  said  Kelly  at  last,  "do  you 
know  we  have  a  cart-load  of  music  to  look 
over  and  we  ought  to  do  it  to-night  ? " 

Then  they  would  go.  She  would  not  see 
him  alone  again! 

"Mrs.  Lowell,  are  you  ready?"  asked 
Philip.  "We  four  will  have  a  grand  moon- 
light walk  up  to  the  Inn." 

"No,  indeed,"  replied  that  lady.  "The 
faithful  Bill  is  expecting  us.  I  know  how  busy 
you  and  Mr.  Kelly  must  be." 

"Oh,  dear!"  burst  forth  Veronica.  It  was 
almost  her  first  utterance  of  the  evening. 
"Is  n't  it  a  shame  that  the  pleasantest  things 
in  life  are  always  the  shortest!"  She  did  wish 
Mrs.  Lowell  would  not  be  so  considerate  of 
the  men's  time.  "Miss  Diana,  don't  you 
really  feel  just  a  little  bit  sorry  to  go  and 
leave  us  ?" 

"I  do,  indeed,"  returned  Diana,  receiving 
the  girl's  offered  hand  in  her  cold  one.  "The 
best  way  probably  is  to  remember  Mr.  Bar- 

341 


THE  KEY  NOTE 


rison's  song  and  live  as  children  play  — l  with- 
out to-morrow,  without  yesterday.'  It  has 
been  a  —  a  wonderful  playtime." 

"But  there  will  be  a  to-morrow,"  said 
Philip,  approaching  her.  "Will  you  come  to 
the  opera  next  winter  and  hear  me  peep  a  few 
lines  like  *  Madam,  the  carriage  waits'  ?"  He 
smiled  radiantly.  "That  is,  if  I  get  in  at  all." 

"Certainly,  all  your  friends  will  be  there," 
she  returned,  with  palpitating  dignity.  How 
could  he  speak  so  gayly  ?  Probably  the  daz- 
zling possibilities  of  the  future  had  effaced  for 
him  the  memories  that  glowed  in  her.  That 
is  what  life  with  him  would  be:  a  constant 
craving,  and  a  constant  disappointment. 

"I  want  a  word  with  you,  Barrison,  before 
we  break  up,"  said  Mr.  Wilbur.  "You  have 
been  some  star  in  this  island  visit  of  mine." 
He  took  Philip's  arm  and  walked  apart  with 
him. 

"Oh,  Mr.  Kelly,  see  the  phosphorescence," 
cried  Veronica  from  where  she  had  moved 
near  the  rail.  Barney  followed  her. 

"What  do  you  suppose  Mr.  Wilbur  wants 
with  Barrison?"  said  Kelly  softly,  as  they 
leaned  over  the  rail.  "Going  to  write  him  a 
check  for  a  million,  maybe.  He  'd  never  miss 


it." 


342 


THE  DINNER  PARTY 


"  I  don't  believe  Mr.  Barrison  will  need  any- 
body else's  millions.  He  made  a  lump  come 
right  up  in  my  throat  when  he  sang  that  last 
song  about  forgetting  and  sitting  on  the 
daisies.  I  just  wished  I  was  in  love  with 
somebody  so  I  could  be  miserable  all  night 
like  girls  in  books.  But" —  Veronica  sighed — 
"I  am  the  most  unsentimental  girl  in  the 
world." 

"I  wonder  if  that  is  what  makes  you  so 
nice,"  said  Barney,  regarding  her  mignonne 
face  instead  of  the  phophorescence.  "You  're 
a  little  brick.  Do  you  know  it?  Are  you 
coming  back  here  again  next  summer?" 

"Perhaps,"  returned  Veronica  demurely. 
"But  meanwhile  I  live  in  Newark;  quite  near 
New  York." 

"I  know,  my  dear,  but  when  I  get  sub- 
merged, even  little  bricks  can't  make  me  come 
to  the  surface  to  breathe.  Do  you  think  your 
father  would  let  you  come  over  to  lunch  with 
me  sometimes?" 

"You  can  ask  him,"  replied  Veronica. 

"Oh,  dear,  is  that  the  way  you  feel  about 
it?" 

"Just  the  way." 

"All  ashore  that 's  going  ashore."  It  was 
Philip's  voice.  "  Come  on,  Kelly,  and  Little  V." 

343 


THE  KEY  NOTE 


Diana  had  been  talking  with  Mrs.  Lowell. 
She  kissed  her  now  hurriedly,  and  stood  rigid. 
The  time  had  come.  She  would  never  go  to 
the  opera.  She  would  never  see  him  again. 
Meanwhile,  she  joined  her  mother's  gracious 
reception  of  the  parting  courtesies,  and  shook 
hands  with  all  the  guests  alike.  They  went 
down  the  guarded  stairway.  It  was  midnight, 
and  the  cove  was  very  still.  Diana  could  not 
watch  the  departure  of  the  small  boat. 

"I'm  tired,"  she  said,  stifling  a  yawn. 
"Good-night,  dears." 

She  disappeared  quickly.  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Wilbur  stood  by  the  rail  and  waved  to  the 
departing  boat-load. 

"What  a  delightful  evening  it  has  been," 
said  the  lady  with  a  sigh.  "But  was  n't  it 
strange  that  Mr.  Barrison  was  n't  hungry 
after  singing  ?  I  thought  people  always  were. 
Did  n't  you  think  the  sandwiches  were  as 
good  as  usual  ?" 

"Better.  I  was  as  hungry  as  a  hunter  —  or 
a  sailor.  Great  air,  this,  Laura." 


CHAPTER  XXIII 

THE  MOON-GODDESS 

IN  the  twin  beds  of  the  master's  room  on  the 
yacht  Idlewild  two  persons  lay  wide  awake 
at  one-thirty  o'clock  that  morning. 

One  of  them  finally  said  softly  and  ten- 
tatively: "Charlie,  are  you  awake?" 

"I  am,  my  dear,"  came  the  reply,  "and  I 
should  like  to  ask  whether  it  is  simply  in- 
somnia with  you,  or  whether  you  are  suffer- 
ing from  incipient  St.  Vitus  ? " 

"Why,  I  thought  I  had  been  keeping  so 
still.  It  was  the  same  way  after  I  heard  that 
man  sing  the  last  time.  I  could  n't  sleep  for 
hours.  Is  n't  he  all  I  said  ?  I  '11  warrant  he  is 
keeping  you  awake,  too." 

"I  think  he  is." 

"There!"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Wilbur  trium- 
phantly. "  You  do  consider  him  extraordinary, 
don't  you?" 

"I  do.  So  much  so  that  I  have  asked  him 
to  go  out  with  us  to-morrow  night  —  Oh,  it 's 
to-night,  is  n't  it  ?  The  Captain  says  we  will 
leave  at  nine-thirty,  and  go  as  far  as  Port- 
land." 

"Why,  I  think  that  is  fine,"  said  Mrs.  Wil- 

345 


THE  KEY  NOTE 


bur,  greatly  surprised.  "Well,"  she  added, 
after  a  pause,  "you  could  scarcely  give  a 
greater  proof  of  your  liking,  for  I  know  how 
careful  you  are  not  to  commit  yourself  to 
being  bored  by  anybody  on  the  yacht.  Why 
did  n't  he  tell  me  when  he  left  to-night  ?" 

"Because  he  did  not  expect  to  accept.  He 
may  do  so  yet,  however.  I  told  him  he  might 
decide  at  the  last  minute." 

"Why  did  he  hesitate?  Perhaps  because 
you  did  n't  invite  Mr.  Kelly." 

"Oh,  but  I  did.  I  told  him  they  might 
reign  supreme  in  the  music-room  and  work 
as  much  as  they  pleased." 

"How  delightful!  Then  why  did  n't  lie 
jump  at  such  a  prospect  ?  I  suppose  because 
they  would  n't  get  to  New  York  so  quickly." 

"No,  he  has  considerable  latitude  concern- 
ing the  date  for  arrival  in  New  York.  I  '11 
tell  you  just  what  he  replied  when  I  asked 
him.  He  looked  me  straight  in  the  eye  and 
he  said:  ' Thank  you,  Mr.  Wilbur,  but  it 
would  n't  do  me  any  good  to  take  such  a  trip. 
It 's  best  for  me  to  play  safe.  I  've  passed  the  age 
when  it  is  permissible  to  cry  for  the  moon.' 
He  said  it  slowly,  with  pauses.  He  was  per- 
fectly willing  I  should  know  what  he  meant, 
and  he  saw  that  I  did  know." 

346 


THE  MOON-GODDESS 


"Will  you  kindly  tell  me"  —Mrs.  Wilbur 
sat  up  in  bed  and  looked  across  at  her  hus- 
band, bewildered  —  "what  the  man  was  talk- 
ing about  ? " 

"Can't  you  possibly  think  it  out?"  asked 
Charles  Wilbur  quietly. 

She  frowned  into  the  darkness.  "You 
don't  mean  —  he  teases  Diana  about  being 
goddess  of  the  moon  —  "  She  paused. 

"You  're  getting  warm,  dear,  very  warm," 
remarked  her  husband. 

"Why,  Charlie,  it's  impossible!"  Then 
hotly:  "He  is  very  wise.  Nothing  would 
induce  Diana  to  think  of  him." 

"You  would  n't  like  it,  eh?" 

"Why,  the  idea!  It 's  an  impossible  idea! 
I  was  a  little  apprehensive  at  first,  when  I 
saw  how  attractive  he  was  and  knew  that 
she  had  been  up  here  alone  with  him  so  long, 
but  I  soon  saw  there  was  nothing  in  it,  and 
you  should  hear  what  Diana  says  —  " 

"Yes,  I  know  young  girls  say  a  great  many 
things  besides  their  prayers." 

"Well,  what  did  you  say  to  him  when  he 
answered  you  like  that?"  Mrs.  Wilbur's 
tone  was  tense. 

"I  told  him  that  he  might  think  it  over, 
and  that  I  should  be  glad  to  have  him  come." 

347 


THE  KEY  NOTE 


"Charles  Wilbur!"  exclaimed  his  wife 
severely.  She  threw  off  a  down  cover  as  if 
minded  to  rise. 

"  Cover  yourself  up,  dear.  It 's  rather  cool." 

"But  that  was  encouraging  him,  Charlie." 

"I  think  he  perceived  it  dimly.  He  looked 
at  me  —  a  long  gaze  —  by  George,  he  's  a 
good-looking  boy  —  and  he  did  n't  say  a 
word.  Then  we  shook  hands  and  rejoined  the 
others." 

"You  have  done  very  wrong,"  declared 
Mrs.  Wilbur,  pulling  back  the  cover,  but  not 
lying  down. 

"What  do  you  want  for  Diana,  Laura? 
A  title?" 

"You  need  n't  use  that  tone.  I  have  n't 
thought  out  what  I  want  for  Diana." 

"I  have.  I  want  happiness  for  her.  From 
the  day  of  my  arrival  here,  I  have  seen  signs. 
I  'm  a  rich  man,  but  there  is  one  thing  I 
can't  buy  for  my  only  child,  and  that  is 
happiness.  Diana  is  a  fastidious,  carefully 
bred  girl,  unspoiled  as  they  make  'em,  yet,  of 
course,  just  as  liable  to  fall  for  an  infatuation 
as  Helen  Loring  was." 

"But  she  hasn't,  she  has  not,  Charlie," 
interrupted  his  wife  impetuously.  "You  don't 
know  —  " 

348 


THE  MOON-GODDESS 


"  It  is  you  who  do  not  know,  my  dear.  You 
have  been  so  in  love  with  him  yourself,  and 
so  obsessed  with  the  joy  of  springing  him  on 
Mrs.  Coolidge  and  your  other  musical  friends, 
that  you  have  n't  seen  what  was  going  on 
under  your  nose  any  more  than  if  you  were  a 
dear  little  bat." 

* ; Don't  you  call  me  a  dear  little  bat!  Diana 
is  much  more  my  child  than  yours.  A  mother 
understands  her  daughter  far  better  than  the 
father  can.  The  idea  of  your  high-handedly 
taking  this  matter  into  your  hands  without 
even  consulting  me!" 

"Don't  get  excited,  Laura.  I'm  not  forc- 
ing anything.  You  've  had  your  innings. 
You  did  n't  even  notice  what  that  last  song 
of  Barrison's  did  to  Diana  to-night." 

"Mere  emotionality.  The  same  thing  that 
keeps  me  awake  after  I  hear  him  sing.  That 
proves  nothing.  It  should  even  make  you 
pull  away  from  him  instead  of  pulling  for 
him.  You  're  crazy,  Charles.  He  has  hyp- 
notized you.  The  idea  that  a  mere  thrilling 
tenor  voice  and  a  fine  figure  could  make  you 
lay  down  your  common  sense."  Mrs.  Wil- 
bur's voice  quavered  and  she  felt  under  her 
pillow  for  her  handkerchief. 

Her    husband    smiled    in    the    darkness. 

349 


THE  KEY  NOTE 


"Wait,  dear.  I  don't  care  whether  Diana 
marries  a  singer  or  not.  I  want  her  to  marry  a 
real  man.  I  was  on  the  lookout  for  infatua- 
tion when  I  saw  you  so  captivated,  and  I 
began  to  inquire  into  the  facts.  I  found  an  all- 
American  chap  who  had  had  a  struggle  from 
childhood  and  won  out  over  poverty  and  dis- 
couragement by  hitching  his  wagon  to  a  star. 
He  volunteered  during  the  late  war  and  was 
slightly  wounded.  He  has  a  clean  inheritance, 
good  muscle,  and  plenty  of  red  blood.  I 
don't  care  for  the  blue  kind,  myself.  In 
short,  he  is  the  sort  of  man  I  am  perfectly 
willing  our  daughter  should  marry,  if  she 
wants  to.1' 

"I  tell  you—" 

"Yes,  I  know.  You  tell  me  she  does  n't 
want  to.  Now,  I  have  an  idea  we  shall  very 
soon  learn  the  truth  about  that.  Barrison  has 
shown  that  he  knows  how  to  get  what  he 
wants.  In  this  case,  I  can  see  how  our  money 
will  stick  in  his  crop." 

"Ho!"  from  the  other  bed.  A  tremendous 
aspiration. 

"Don't  blow  me  out  of  the  room,  dearie.  I 
know  people  will  laugh  at  that  idea,  but  I  have 
had  lots  of  experience  in  reading  character. 
Barrison  will  have  a  great  deal  to  overcome 

350 


THE  MOON-GODDESS 


in  his  own  mind.  He  will  not  feel  free  to  ap- 
proach Diana.  Perhaps,  after  all,  the  affair 
will  amount  to  nothing.  All  right,  if  it  does. 
I  'm  a  passenger,  now  that  I  feel  sure  the  boy 
is  a  clean  specimen." 

"Has  it  come  to  this!"  ejaculated  Mrs. 
Wilbur  slowly.  "That  Diana  Wilbur  is  to  be 
given  to  a  clean  specimen!" 

"If  she  so  desires,"  returned  the  other. 
"Now  I'm  going  to  ask  a  big  thing  of  you, 
Laura.  It  is  not  to  speak  to  Diana  on  this  sub- 
ject until  she  speaks  to  you.  She  knows  noth- 
ing of  my  invitation  to  Barrison.  We  can't 
handle  the  matter  any  further  with  good 
effect  until  the  principals  declare  themselves. 
You  know  our  girl.  You  know  it  is  a  hall 
mark  of  genuineness,  a  proof  of  pure  metal 
when  she  likes  a  man  or  a  woman.  Can't  you 
trust  her?" 

Mrs.  Wilbur  was  lying  down  now.  Her  hus- 
band heard  a  sniff  or  two  stifled  in  a  pillow. 

"I  was  n't  anybody  when  you  married  me, 
Laura,"  he  went  on  gently.  "Were  n't  we 
just  as  happy  when  we  economized  on  taking 
a  taxi  as  we  are  in  this  yacht  ?  Our  boy  would 
be  nearly  twenty-three  now  if  he  had  lived.  I 
would  have  liked  my  son  to  look  at  me  with  as 
clear  eyes,  to  have  known  as  little  of  self- 


THE  KEY  NOTE 


indulgence  as  Barrison.  It  is  all  up  to  the  chil- 
dren, but  would  n't  there  be  points  in  being 
mother-in-law  to  that  voice,  when  you  come 
to  think  it  over?" 

No  answer,  and  soon  Charles  Wilbur  com- 
pleted his  infamy  by  a  long  and  regular 
breathing  that  assured  his  wife  that  he  was 
sleeping  the  sleep  of  the  unjust  and  the  out- 
rageous. 

Leonie  arose  a  few  hours  later  to  a  hard  day. 
Mrs.  Wilbur  had  a  headache  and  did  not 
leave  her  bed.  Diana,  with  dark  shadows 
under  her  eyes,  came  in  to  make  a  dutiful 
visit  of  condolence,  and  was  well  snubbed. 
She  retreated  to  the  deck,  where  her  father 
was  cheerfully  watching  the  life  of  the  cove. 

"Good-morning,  dear,"  he  said,  turning 
and  putting  his  arm  around  her.  "We  have 
your  mother  laid  out,  have  n't  we  ?" 

"Why,  Daddy,  what  is  the  matter?  The 
coordination  of  her  nervous  system  seems 
entirely  thrown  out." 

He  smiled  heartlessly.  "She  didn't  sleep 
much,  honey.  Neither  did  you,"  regarding 
her  closely. 

"No,  Daddy,"  she  replied,  rather  breath- 
lessly. "I  seem  to  be  more  reposeful  when 
the  yacht  is  in  motion." 

35* 


THE  MOON-GODDESS 


"  'Rocked  in  the  cradle  of  the  deep,'  eh  ? 
Want  to  go  ashore  this  morning?" 

"No,  I  think  not.  Mrs.  Lowell  is  coming 
out  for  tea  this  afternoon,  a  little  good-bye 
visit." 

"All  right,  then.  What  do  you  say  to  some 
cribbage  ?" 

"Fine,  if  we  cannot  be  of  any  assistance  to 
Mamma.  Are  you  sure  ?" 

"Yes,  my  love.  She  has  been  drinking 
heavily  of  'the  wine  of  astonishment'  and 
must  sleep  it  off.  If  there  is  any  humble  pie 
on  board,  you  might  have  Leonie  take  her 
some  for  luncheon." 

"What  are  you  talking  about,  Daddy? 
Poor  Mamma!" 

"Yes,  she  is  absolutely  one  of  the  finest.  I 
thought  so  when  she  was  eighteen,  and  cute, 
with  a  little  turn-up  nose  and  dimples  some- 
thing like  that  Veronica  girl,  and  I  think  so 
now;  but  the  best  of  women  must  sometimes 
lie  by  until  they  get  a  new  perspective." 

"Daddy,  I  don't  understand  you.  You  and 
Mamma  have  —  have  differed  about  some- 
thing, I  fear." 

"Well,  it  —  it  might  be  described  that  way. 
Morris,"  —  turning  toward  his  valet  who  was 
near,  —  "the  cribbage-board,  please." 

353 


THE  KEY  NOTE 


Diana  strove  valiantly  not  to  have  a  mis- 
erable day.  She  played  cribbage  with  her 
father  until  luncheon  was  served  on  deck. 
Then  she  gave  orders  for  her  tea,  and  Leonie 
came  to  remind  her  of  her  promise  that  she 
might  show  Bill  Lindsay  over  the  yacht.  He 
arrived  about  the  same  time  as  Mrs.  Lowell, 
and  Leonie,  frightened  to  death  of  her  mis- 
tress's strange  mood,  besought  Diana  to  re- 
main with  her  mother  while  she  should  fulfill 
the  promise  to  her  island  pal,  and  bid  him  a 
long  and  racking  farewell. 

So  Diana  left  Mrs.  Lowell  with  her  father 
while  she  ventured  to  her  mother's  bedside 
and  sat  down,  silently.  A  handkerchief,  red- 
olent of  cologne,  covered  the  sufferer's  eyes. 

"Who  is  that?"  came  faintly  from  the 
blinded  one. 

"It  is  I,  Mamma,"  said  Diana  meekly. 
"Are  you  feeling  a  little  better?" 

"Diana," —  the  voice  was  still  faint  but 
stern,  —  "have  I  been  a  good  mother  to 
you?" 

"Mamma,  dear,  there  never  was  a  better. 
How  can  you  ask  ? " 

"Because  no  one  else  thinks  so." 

Diana  threw  herself  on  her  knees  beside 
the  bed  and  took  the  hand  that  was  outside 

354 


THE  MOON-GODDESS 


the  rosy  silk  coverlet.  "Dearest,  I  am  not 
feeling  very  well  to-day  and  you  will  destroy 
my  poise  if  you  say  such  things.  My  heart 
feels  sore  for  some  reason,  so  do  not  give  it 
any  blows.  You  know  how  Daddy  and  I 
think  there  is  nobody  in  the* world  like  you. 
Daddy  was  talking  about  it  this  morning  and 
telling  me  how  cute  and  pretty  you  were  when 
he  first  knew  you,"  —  Diana's  voice  began  to 
quaver, — "told  me  about  your  dimples  and 
everything,  and  how  you  were  just  as  attrac- 
tive to  him  now  as  you  had  been  then,  and  " — 
Diana  succumbed  and  tears  fell  on  the  hand 
she  held — "  and  if  I  am  ever  married,  Mamma, 
—  I  do  so  hope  that  in  twenty-five  years 
afterward  —  he  —  he  will  feel  that  way  about 


me." 


One  eye  emerged  from  the  cologne  bandage 
and  viewed  the  girl's  lovely,  bowed  head. 

"Now,  don't  cry,  Diana,"  firmly.  "Why 
in  the  world  should  you  cry?  You  have  a 
wonderful  life  opening  before  you.  You  've 
known  nothing  yet  but  school",  and  I  want  you 
to  spend  a  little  time  thinking  of  the  possi- 
bilities of  the  future.  With  your  looks  and  the 
money  at  your  command,  there  is  no  social 
experience  among  the  highest-placed  and 
most  cultivated  people  abroad  and  at  home 

355 


THE  KEY  NOTE 


that  you  may  not  enjoy.  You  Ve  heard  the 
saying:  'Of  the  unspoken  word  you  are  mas- 
ter, the  spoken  word  is  master  of  you. '  It  is 
the  same  with  actions.  You  are  deliberate  by 
nature,  and  exquisite  by  breeding.  Never 
commit  yourself  to  anything  impulsively. 
No  mother  would  be  a  good  mother  who  did 
not  say  as  much  as  this  to  you." 

Diana  experienced  a  sudden  stricture  of  the 
heart  that  dried  her  eyes  and  held  her  motion- 
less over  the  hand  she  held.  She  knew  all  at 
once  the  cause  of  her  parents'  difference.  She 
had  never  in  her  life  been  able  to  conceal  any- 
thing from  her  father.  She  flushed  deeply. 
Whatever  he  had  said  to  her  mother  must 
have  been  in  Philip's  favor.  With  thoughts, 
humble,  frightened,  resentful,  racing  through 
her  mind,  she  did  not  know  how  long  she  had 
been  kneeling  there  when  Leonie  came  in  with 
soft  step,  and  she  looked  up  to  see  her  moth- 
er's eye  again  eclipsed.  She  remembered  Mrs. 
Lowell. 

"  Leonie  is  here  now  and  I  must  go,  dearest. 
Mrs.  Lowell  has  come  out  for  some  tea.  Shall 
Leonie  bring  you  some  ? " 

"No.  I  want  nothing.  I  am  feeling  better, 
Diana.  Don't  distress  yourself  about  me." 

The  girl   kissed  the  forehead  above  the 

356 


THE  MOON-GODDESS 


bandage  and  passing  Leonie  saw  that  her 
eyes,  too,  were  red. 

"I  wonder  if  this  day  will  ever  be  over," 
she  thought  dismally. 

She  found  her  father  and  Mrs.  Lowell 
having  a  visit,  charming  to  each  of  them,  and 
tea  was  served  at  once. 

While  they  were  eating  and  drinking,  the 
island  steamer  came  into  the  cove  and  up  to 
its  landing. 

"I  suppose  our  delightful  musician  friends 
are  leaving  on  that  boat,"  said  Mrs.  Lowell. 
"Shan't  we  stand  at  the  rail,  and  wave  a 
good-bye  ? " 

"No,  I  would  n't,"  returned  Diana  hastily. 
"Everybody  except  the  right  ones  will  take 
the  greeting  to  themselves,  and — "  Indeed, 
she  would  not  wave  to  Philip  after  his  cruelty 
in  singing  that  song!  And  obeying  it  so  liter- 
ally as  not  to  manage  one  word  of  farewell  to 
her  alone  I 

"Little  snob,  eh,  Mrs.  Lowell?"  said  her 
father. 

The  steamer  was  turning  around  to  leave. 

"He  is  going!"  cried  Diana's  heart.  The 
whole  day  to  have  passed  with  no  sign  from 
him!  Cruel!  Cruel!  "You  know,  Daddy, 
Mrs.  Lowell  and  I  must  see  something  of  each 

357 


THE  KEY  NOTE 


other  the  coming  winter  if  only  for  Bert's 
sake.  He  is  related  to  us." 

The  passenger  boat  was  passing  near  now. 
The  yacht  felt  its  waves.  Diana  turned  her 
eyes  toward  it  in  spite  of  herself.  Some  people 
were  waving  handkerchiefs  toward  the  hand- 
some yacht,  and  the  Captain  whistled  three 
times.  The  yacht  replied,  and  Charles  Wilbur 
stood  up  and  saluted.  Diana's  heart  beat 
hard  and  painfully.  She  looked  back  at  the 
tea-table. 

"Tell  us,  Daddy,  just  what  relation  Mr. 
Herbert  Loring  was  to  you." 

"Why,  it  was  this  way.  My  grandmother 
and  his  mother  were  — " 

Diana  never  knew  what  they  were,  for  the 
island  steamer  was  moving  toward  the  mouth 
of  the  cove.  Handkerchiefs  were  waving  from 
the  stern.  It  receded.  It  rounded  the  rocks 
at  the  farthest  point,  and  disappeared. 

"That  is  very  interesting,  indeed,"  said 
Mrs.  Lowell.  "I  shall  tell  Bert.  He  will  be 
glad  and  proud  of  the  connection.  I  have  a 
fine  boy  there,  Mr.  Wilbur.  I  am  hoping  my 
husband  won't  mind  my  taking  such  a  re- 
sponsibility." She  rose  to  go. 

"You  have  a  good  ally  in  Luther  Wrenn," 
remarked  Mr.  Wilbur,  arranging  her  wrap. 

358 


THE  MOON-GODDESS 


"Yes,  and  in  you,  I  hope?" 

"Certainly.  At  your  service.  A  big  re- 
sponsibility awaits  that  youngster.  Let  us 
hope  he  will  grow  up  to  be  as  clean-cut  and 
simply  honest  as  young  Barrison." 

"You  do  like  him,  don't  you?"  said  Mrs. 
Lowell  with  her  direct  look. 

"Very  much,  so  far.  I  don't  know  how  he 
may  carry  sail  in  the  prosperity  before  him, 
but  so  far  he  seems  to  be  all  to  the  good." 

The  small  boat  was  summoned  for  the 
guest.  Bill  Lindsay  had  gone  off  in  the  dory 
that  brought  him.  Diana  went  alone  with 
her  friend  to  the  head  of  the  awninged  stair- 
way. 

Mrs.  Lowell  saw  the  marks  of  distress  in 
the  young  face,  and  she  held  the  girl's  hand 
for  a  minute.  "God  bless  you,"  she  said,  and 
kissed  her  lovingly.  "Trust  Him,  my  dear," 
she  added  meaningly.  "He  is  taking  care  of 
you.  Claim  it  and  know  it.  Good-bye." 

Diana  watched  the  boat  glide  toward  the 
shore.  "This  awful  day  is  nearly  over,"  she 
thought.  "I  feel  as  if  my  good  angel  was 
going  away  in  that  boat." 

Mrs.  Wilbur  did  not  arise  for  dinner. 
Diana  and  her  father  ate  it  alone  in  state. 
Keen  to  do  her  duty  and  grateful  to  him  for 

359 


THE  KEY  NOTE 


his  attitude  toward  the  man  whom  she  must 
henceforth  forget,  she  had  dressed  herself  in 
her  prettiest  gown.  At  twenty,  pensive  eyes 
with  shadows  about  them  are  not  unbecom- 
ing, and  her  father  looked  across  at  her  ad- 
miringly. 

"The  Count  de  No-Account  or  some  other 
titles,  should  be  here  to-night,  my  dear.  The 
moon-goddess  is  too  lovely  to  beam  upon  no 
one  more  thrilling  than  her  humdrum  old 
daddy." 

"As  if  any  one  could  come  up  to  him,"  re- 
joined Diana  affectionately.  "You  remind 
me  of  the  way  Mamma  was  talking  this  after- 
noon, of  all  the  possibilities  money  opens  to  a 
girl,  abroad  and  at  home.  She  did  not  stop 
to  think  what  a  standard  she  had  set  up  by 
marrying  you." 

Her  father  nodded  slowly,  regarding  her 
with  a  curious  smile.  "Indeed.  So  little 
Mamma  was  able  to  sit  up  with  a  comforter 
around  her  and  show  you  the  kingdoms  of  the 
earth  and  the  glory  of  them,  was  she  ?  Well, 
well.  Foxy  little  Mamma." 

Diana  blushed  violently  and  busied  herself 
with  her  salad.  "I  am  sorry  we  have  to  sleep 
in  Portland  harbor  to-night.  It  won't  be 
quiet  for  Mamma." 

360 


THE  MOON-GODDESS 


There  were  no  more  personalities  during 
the  meal.  The  girl  and  her  father  went  on 
deck  and  watched  the  sunset  together,  after 
which  Mr.  Wilbur  said  he  would  go  down  and 
see  his  wife,  and  Diana  was  left  alone.  She 
had  a  deeply  cushioned  seat  moved  near  the 
yacht's  rail  in  the  stern,  and  leaned  back  to 
watch  the  cove  darken  and  the  lights  flash 
out  on  the  other  boats.  Her  thoughts  ran 
over  a  resume  of  the  summer.  How  long  the 
weeks  stretched  out  in  retrospect!  How  they 
had  fled  in  passing!  Presently,  the  moon  arose 
over  the  hill-road.  She  thdught  of  last  evening 
when  their  group  had  welcomed  it.  Philip 
had  said  that  night  on  the  rocks  that  he 
should  not  forget  that  she  was  as  distant  from 
him  as  that  planet,  and  he  had  kept  his  word. 
Not  to  see  his  merry  eyes  again.  Not  to  see 
the  sensitiveness  of  his  smile  when  he  looked 
at  her.  Not  to  hear  him  call  her  a  goddess, 
not  to  hear  him  sing  except  as  others  heard 
him. 

"  Only  we  '11  sit  upon  the  daisied  grass, 
And  hear  the  larks,  and  see  the  swallows  pass. 
Only  we  '11  live  awhile  as  children  play, 
Without  to-morrow,  without  yesterday." 

She  had  heard  the  song  all  day,  and  her 
heart  now  felt  sick  and  empty  as  she  sat 

361 


THE  KEY  NOTE 


there,  that  golden  moon  beaming  down  upon 
her  alone,  and  striking  to  silver  the  ripples 
across  the  cove.  She  leaned  among  her  cushions 
and  turned  her  face  aside.  Her  eyes  began 
to  smart,  and  she  closed  them.  The  wind  as 
usual  had  gone  down  with  the  sun,  and  the 
awning  fringes  were  but  faintly  stirred. 

Suddenly  she  felt  that  the  boat  was  moving. 
So  smooth  and  silent  its  motion,  that,  when 
she  looked  up,  the  yacht  was  halfway  out  of 
the  cove.  She  leaned  forward. 

"Oh,  good-bye,"  she  murmured,  and  she 
held  out  her  hands  toward  the  wooded  bank. 
"Good-bye.  Oh,  good-bye,  Isola  Bella.  I 
shall  always  love  you,  and  every  blade  of 
grass,  and  every  daisy,  and  every  swallow." 

Tears  veiled  the  shadowy  woods.  She  dashed 
them  away,  and  resisted  the  sob  that  rose 
in  her  throat.  The  yacht  moved  swiftly  out 
into  the  waves  of  the  summer  sea.  It  was  now 
only  the  end  of  the  wooded  bluff  which  she 
could  perceive  in  the  moonlight.  She  leaned 
back  again,  and,  covering  her  eyes,  re- 
laxed, holding  her  quivering  lip  between  her 
teeth. 

A  neighboring  movement  made  her  look  up, 
expecting  her  father. 

Philip  Barrison  stood  there. 
362 


THE  MOON-GODDESS 


She  caught  her  breath.  "It  is  impos- 
sible!" she  gasped. 

"Yes,  it  is."  He  took  her  outstretched 
hands  and  sank  down  beside  her.  "It  is  a 
midsummer  night's  dream;  but  I  could  n't — 
I  tried,  Diana,  but  I  could  n't  resist.  Your 
father  asked  me  —  said  I  might  come  —  even 
at  the  last  minute."  At  each  pause  Philip 
kissed  the  hands  he  was  holding.  "Are  you  — 
that  is  the  one  vital  question  —  are  you  glad 
I  came,  my  goddess  ? " 

The  look  she  gave  him  in  the  moonlight 
made  him  take  her  quickly  in  his  arms,  and 
she  sank  into  them  with  the  certainty  of  the 
bird  that  finds  its  nest. 

"I  don't  know  how  I  dared  this,  Diana,  — 
dared  the  future,  I  mean.  How  can  I  be  the 
right  one  to  win  the  prize  of  the  whole  world  ?" 

"Because  you  are  the  only  man  in  the 
whole  world  for  me,  and  you  felt  it,  and  I 
felt  it.  Oh,  Philip,  I  won't  be  so  selfish  as  in 
the  way  I  have  talked  to  you.  I  am  never 
going  to  grudge  that  others  should  admire 
you." 

"No,  you  never  will,"  he  answered.  "The 
sparkle  of  what  others  may  say  is  like  the 
phosphorescence  down  there  in  the  unlighted 
places.  The  radiance  and  glow  filling  my 

363 


THE  KEY  NOTE 


whole  being  now  is  an  eternal  thing.  I  can't 
believe  it  yet,  it  will  take  me  a  long  time  to 
believe  it,  but,  oh,  my  beautiful  one,  I  wish, 
I  do  wish  you  were  a  poor  girl!" 

She  lifted  her  head  from  his  breast,  looking 
at  him  with  glorified  eyes.  "I  should  be,"  she 
said  slowly,  "  if  you  did  not  love  me  —  Philo- 
mel." 

They  kissed,  and  the  moon  shone  down  on 
the  beaten  foam  of  the  snowy  wake  in  a  long, 
ineffable  silence. 


THE   END 


f  CAMBRIDGE  •  MASSACHUSETTS 
V  •  S  •   A 


UC  SOUTHERN  REGIONAL  LIBRARY  FACILITY 


A     000119849     8 


